


somewhere in between

by soldouthaz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, CEO Louis, Cock Warming, Dom Harry, Dom/sub, Kneeling, Light Humiliation, M/M, Spanking, Strangers to Lovers, Sub Louis, Top Harry, significantly less angst than my usual fics!, slightly insecure louis, soft dom harry, therapist harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27574163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz
Summary: Louis wakes up early. He brushes his teeth and can only stomach a piece of toast for breakfast, dressing quickly and heading for the car. He pulls into the parking lot of the Department of Dominance and Submission just as they’re unlocking the doors. It takes him all of an hour in the uncomfortable chairs to fill out the paperwork to the best and most accurate of his ability, handing it over to the receptionist as soon as he’s finished and wiping his sweaty palms on his business trousers.There’s a high chance that within ten to fifteen business days, Louis will be matched with a dominant.Shit.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 137
Kudos: 796
Collections: Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2020





	somewhere in between

**Author's Note:**

> hello all! this is my second prompt I've written for the BLFF this year, thank you to all who have clicked on it and decided to give this story a chance! 
> 
> I said most of my thank you's in the notes on that fic but of course I need to thank ris (falsegoodnight) for beta-ing for me and being the best cheerleader and friend I could ask for!!! and then secondly to the blff mods for putting all of this together for us! :) 
> 
> the prompt is #322: successful ceo louis is 27 and is a sub. he was matched with a dom and was excited but a little scared. the dom is harry who is 19 or 20 and louis feels humiliated because he thinks harry’s basically a kid but harry is so much more dominant and immediately gives louis a spanking. he lets louis continue being a ceo because he’s so proud of him. but at home, louis is a housewife and please add cockwarming. 
> 
> a few warnings/notes before we begin: the ages have been altered to 22 and 28 respectively, simply to avoid any issues regarding age and to make a few more areas of the story make a bit more sense. in addition, I have also changed the spanking area of the prompt to happen just slightly later than what is specified because I felt like it fit the flow of the characters and storyline better. I hope these changes don't put anyone off too much! 
> 
> as always, please feel free to reach out to me if I've missed any warnings or if you'd like more information before reading -- I would be more than happy to help you out! 
> 
> without further ado, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Louis likes to think he has everything he’ll ever need. He’s got a fantastic job at the head of his company, along with all of the perks that come with being a CEO: the car, the penthouse, the stale air of luxury. He’s worked hard for many long, tiring years to get to where he is, and there isn’t a single regret he has about any of it. 

It’s just that being alone and being lonely are two entirely separate things. Louis’ been alone for many years now, and he’s preferred it that way. Both his education and his profession demand quite a lot of time and effort from him, and most days he comes home to an empty penthouse so thankful for the silence that he can’t see straight. 

Time has passed since then though, nearly six years now, and he’s relaxed some. His schedule is monotonous and although Louis loves his job, he finds himself a bit bored with the routine. It’s comfortable, and it’s reliable, and if something doesn’t change soon Louis thinks he may go insane. 

Which he’s aware doesn’t make much sense. People spend their entire lives searching for the kind of stability he’s got. And it isn’t that he wants to change that aspect of his life either, he just needs some -  _ something _ . 

“Louis Tomlinson?” 

Eyes snapping up from his phone screen, Louis weaves through the crowd back up to the counter to pick up his coffee. 

“Here,” he says, holding out a few extra dollar bills for the overworked barista. 

“Oh, thank you, sir,” she chirps, trading him his drink for the money. “Have a wonderful rest of your day!” 

Louis smiles and waves over his shoulder as he turns to leave, the shape fading from his lips as soon as he turns away again. Not even the overpriced caffeine is going to be able to fix  _ this _ kind of low, he muses. 

Being the CEO of a record label at twenty-eight is an accomplishment he prides himself on quite often. It’s a different kind of rush to know that he’s getting to be a part of someone’s passion, their success, their happiness. He wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. 

The busy London streets are bustling with the morning rush but he doesn’t bother moving as they shoulder roughly past him. The office is only a few blocks away, so Louis usually comes in extra early and walks to get coffee and back before anyone else even arrives. 

Someone’s hand brushes against his in passing for less than a fraction of a second but his eyes flit down to the skin immediately, thrown off by the contact. It takes him a moment to brush it off, shaking his head and taking a long sip of his drink. He’s not much used to physical touch anymore. 

The office is empty when he arrives, completely silent save for the air conditioning kicking on in the corner, and even that is familiar, monotonous, and lulling him back into the same old routine. Louis hangs his jacket on the hook inside of his office door and slinks behind his desk, pressing the button to raise the automatic curtains behind him, his back turned to the entire view of the city. 

It’s just recently become clear - that emptiness inside of him isn’t just going to go away easily, no matter how many iced coffees and fake pleasantries he tries to fill it with. 

He sighs, picking his head back up from where he’d laid it momentarily on his folded arms, and gets to work. It’s going to be a long day. 

+

When Louis’ stressed, he works. When he’s sad, he works. When he’s happy, he still works. There isn’t much time he isn’t working, really. He wishes it were different sometimes, but he has to admit it provides a pleasant distraction. 

He never gets much sleep either because he brings half the office home with him each night in terms of paperwork and other things. This week though, it’d been particularly awful. There’s a new client that they’re trying to woo and they’re torn between Louis and another label, but Louis just knows this person would be amazing in the industry. If he loses them even after wasting all of his time planning fancy business dinners and researching all of their favorite things, he thinks he may just pull his hair out and retire early. He supposes he could if he wanted to. 

A knock on his office door startles him, and Louis glances up from his papers to see Niall’s raised brow in the open doorway. 

“I’m goin’ to get some lunch. You want to come with?” 

Louis glances up at him from behind his desk, huffing out an anxious breath and shoving a stack of papers to the side. “ _ God _ , yes.” 

Snorting, Niall holds open the door for him as he rounds the corner and pulls on his jacket, letting the receptionist know that he’s leaving for lunch. It’s been hours since he arrived, about six and a half at this point, and he’s starving. 

“You can’t keep forgetting to eat, man,” Niall says as they board the elevator. “You’re gonna make yourself sick, stuck in there all day.” 

“I know that,” Louis argues. 

“Do you? You look ill.” He squints as they step out onto the ground floor outside, merging into the lunch crowd on the sidewalk. 

“Gee, thanks, Ni,” Louis mutters, flicking some of his hair out of his face. “That’s just what I want to hear.” 

It gets difficult to keep up the conversation when the street noise is so loud, but Louis’ semi-grateful for the break. Niall’s his best friend at the office but he’s just so honest. Not to mention the fact that he’s a dom. No matter how comfortable he is around him, he’ll never quite be able to understand what he’s going through. 

Opening the door for himself and keeping it open for Niall, Louis enters the cafe and relaxes slightly when he sees there’s no line. The sooner he can get back to work, the better. 

“You gettin’ the same old?” At Louis’ nod, Niall pushes him toward an open booth that’s just freshly been vacated. “Go get us a seat, I’ll order and bring it over.” 

Without arguing, he slips into one side of the booth and sets his jacket on the other to show he’s waiting for someone. Right in his line of vision, there’s a couple next to the window up front. He can see them smiling, blushing and enjoying each other’s company. Everytime one of their laughs makes it to his ears, he flinches, eyes glazed over in a daze. He catches sight of a dangly bracelet on one of their wrists and wonders if it’s just jewelry or if it’s more. If it’s somewhat of a claim. 

“Alright, here we go,” Niall hums, placing the plates down in front of them. He’d waited at the counter for their food and gotten all of the condiments Louis likes, courtesy of them eating lunch here together for so many years. Louis smiles gratefully and pulls his silverware out from the napkin. 

For a few minutes he doesn’t say anything else, too preoccupied with the food and his drink to make small talk that he doesn’t even feel like making in the first place. But he can sense it when Niall gears up to speak, clearing his throat and wiping the back of his mouth with his hand. 

“It’s gonna be okay either way, Lou,” he murmurs around his sandwich. “You’ve got tons of fantastic talent even if they don’t pick you.” 

Louis nods. He knows that. But he has to be chasing something, has to be working for something he doesn’t already have. One of these days it’s going to catch up with him, he’s sure. 

“I know,” he says. 

Niall doesn’t seem convinced. He pauses, sets his sandwich down and fixes him with an intense gaze. “Louis, you can talk to me. You know that, yeah? Always.” 

“I’m fine, Niall,” he denies. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, honestly. You’re right, it’s going to be okay either way.” 

Niall eyes him in that way that only he can, his gaze slithering underneath Louis’ skin as if to find the real root of the problem. Louis  _ knows _ Niall knows he’s lying, but he can’t talk about it out loud. Not yet, anyway. 

And even if he did, he isn’t sure he could with Niall. He’s an amazing friend and Louis loves him, but ultimately he’s just another dom. He’d never be able to understand it from Louis’ perspective. He already knows this, with how many times Niall’s tried to set him up with someone in hopes of changing his mind. 

Maybe someday it won’t feel as un comfortable . Maybe he’ll be able to vent about the incessant buzzing in his veins and the persistent anxiousness in the pit of his stomach, the way he jumps in surprise when someone touches him, even if only platonically. Maybe one day. 

Just not today. 

“We should get back to the office,” Louis sighs. 

He takes his time wrapping up the rest of his food in a take home box and then promptly throws it in the trash on the way out the door as Niall continues to stare at him. Because that’s just how he’s feeling right now. 

+

Louis’ penthouse is another facet of his life that he’s more than satisfied with. It’s sleek and modern sort of like his office is, but not enough to lose the homey feel. He’d designed nearly everything himself, custom details littered throughout the various hallways and sprawling rooms. 

His bedroom is cozy, painted a warm brown. Louis adores it, with its flowy curtains and the perpetually soft duvet, scone lights hung minimally around the room so the lighting is always perfect. When he actually makes it home from the office at night, he loves sleeping in there. 

Back downstairs he’s got his study that he rarely uses now. Usually he just prefers to work at the company instead, though he always ends up bringing some home with him anyway. He still remembers when he loved that too though, when he stocked the tall bookshelves by hand. 

The kitchen and the dining area are decorated minimally as well, most of the windows from the open living room serving as the view from anywhere in the room. Sometimes Louis likes to sit in the fluffy chair and look out of it, watching all of the people and cars underneath from the high level. 

And then, at the farthest end of the penthouse, there are two rooms by themselves that Louis rarely ever finds himself in. 

It’s a relatively small hallway on that side, with low light and not much furniture. Despite his passion for decorating and designing the rest of the house, it seems his passion had abruptly stopped there. 

On one side of the corridor is a guest bedroom. It’s got the same black wood flooring and big windows as the rest of the place, but it just never quite felt like  _ Louis’. _ There’s a bed and a nightstand in there and not much else, an ensuite bathroom connected to one side next to the closet. 

The opposite side of the hallway holds a room that Louis hasn’t stepped foot into since it was built. And there’s no reason for it really, because it’s just as nice as the other rooms if not even  _ nicer. _

Dark maroon velvet furniture sits untouched in every corner, silk sheets pulled taut across the king sized bed. It’s a big room with little decor, but the black ceiling makes it feel private and intimate paired with the low lighting. Louis still remembers when he was having it built, standing in the middle of the room with his toes dug into the plush carpet, thinking  _ this is going to be a wonderful place. _

Now it only serves as a reminder of his desolation. Of broken hopes he had for himself when he was still the optimistic type. Before he realized that, despite the purpose of the room being for two people, there was no one he wanted to let inside of it. 

So it sits and collects dust instead, because Louis can’t bring himself to step foot past the doorway. 

He wouldn’t even be standing in front of it now if it weren’t for the fact that the downstairs thermostat is in that hallway and he has to pass by the room to get to it, just a big, stupid reminder. Louis used to scoff when he remembered how excited he’d been to use it all those years ago. 

As it is, he just sort of stares blankly at it with a light frown, wraps his arms around his own middle, and walks away. 

+

The client picks him. Niall insists they have a party to celebrate with the leftover wine and decorations from the holidays. 

Historically, Louis has always hated office parties, even though there’s no real reason for it. He  _ should _ love them, being the center of attention and praised for all of his recent accomplishments. Even so, Louis hates having to be in his stiff suit longer than necessary, entertaining guests he couldn’t care less about and meeting their spoiled partners with snubbed noses and obnoxious talking points. 

The plush leather sofa seems to frown longingly at him as he fixes his tie in the hallway mirror before he leaves again. He’d had only an hour to come home and change before heading back up to the office. 

As a whole, the label is doing exceptionally well. Nearly better than they’ve ever been, in fact, and it always makes Louis happy to see the new talent that’s been signed. He’s proud of how diverse they are in their sound and usually he loves meeting them properly. 

Tonight, though, he’d much rather relax in the bath and forget all about work. It’s not a normal feeling for him, and he struggles to remember how - and  _ why _ \- he’s started feeling that way. 

Both unfortunately and fortunately he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. He drives the roads back to the office mechanically and rides the lift to the top floor where Niall and the rest of them have been setting up. 

Once upon a time, Louis loved this place. And he’d have been insane not to, the elevator doors opening up to a sleek marble floor and big, tall windows that showcase the city lights and the sunset people drive thousands of miles to see. The sofas and rugs had been designed specifically for this office, as was the intricate chandelier hanging above them. A bit further back is Louis’ office right off the main secretary’s desk, complete with a mini kitchen and a sitting area, a long glass desk in the middle with the same view of the skyline behind him. 

He remembers a time when he never wanted to leave. He slept here most nights and poured himself into his work and it made him  _ happy. _ Now all the things he used to love about it just make him feel hollow. 

“Louis!” Niall shouts, crossing the room to greet him. He guides him through the open part of the floor, showing him what they’ve got so far. “We’re just about finished. The caterer’s set up the food over here, and there’s the desserts. Liam’s helping set up the drinks, and then we’ll be all set.” 

Louis nods like any of it affects him and smiles as best he can. For a moment Niall looks like he might say something else, but Liam calls him away and Louis’ left alone once again. He makes a stop to thank the caterers and the others setting up, and then deposits his coat in his office and waits for the guests to arrive. 

Once the first few show up they bring out the drinks on platters and the small appetizers that Louis can’t stand the taste of, people mingling and catching up in each corner of the room. Louis’ in the middle of deciding if he should make some rounds to keep up appearances when the lift doors slide open to reveal Blake and a few other familiar faces. 

Blake works in the department underneath Louis’ in some kind of tech startup, and he’s always been exceptionally nice. Every time Louis sees him around the office he waves or smiles and stops him for a moment to catch up and ask how the business is going. He’s one of the few people here Louis actually  _ enjoys _ talking to. 

Tonight he isn’t alone. There’s a younger man under Blake’s arm that draws Louis’ eye immediately, noticing some features of his own in the clearly submissive man. He excuses himself from his current conversation and heads over without thinking about it, swirling around the drink in his hand. 

“Louis!” Blake greets with a quick handshake. “Have you met my sub?” he asks, gesturing to the younger man on his arm without wasting any time. It seems the universe is just trying to rub it in his face at this point. 

“No,” Louis swallows dryly. “I don’t believe I have.” 

He gives a thin smile as he shakes hands and introduces himself, but the nausea in his stomach grows to an all time unexpected high. The two of them look so good together and it’s obvious the sub is happy, practically glowing as he gazes up at his dom. Louis swallows down the bitterness rising up his throat. He wants that for himself. 

“We were matched only last week,” the sub - Leo, apparently - tells him, twining their fingers together. Louis’ eyes widen. A  _ week _ ? They act as if they’ve known each other for years. 

The two of them get caught up in their own world as Louis nods and begins to back away just as quickly as he’d shown up, setting his flute of champagne down on a table and headed for the bathroom down the hall just as his hands begin to tremble. He needs to get away from them, needs to talk himself back into familiar territory. 

He rounds the corner quickly and locks the door, hands gripping the counter in front of the sinks. His reflection isn’t anything impressive when he glances upward at it, just as tired as ever and aging more by the day.  _ Come on _ , he wills himself.  _ Snap out of it _ . 

Louis doesn’t need a dom. He does just fine on his own and he has for years, perfectly self-sufficient and healthy in spite of it. For the most part. 

A dom would only tell him he isn’t good enough, that he needs to quit his job and stay at home and be a good, quiet submissive who does as he’s told. So what’s the point in applying for one if he  _ knows _ he doesn’t want that? 

Sharp knocking at the bathroom door jars him from his staring contest with his own reflection, his entire body jerking as if he’d been hit. Louis’ eyes slide over to it, taking a deep, calming breath before he goes to open it up. 

Leo stands on the other side, his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Hi,” he says awkwardly. “May I come in?” 

“Yeah, I’m just leaving.” 

“No, I meant - I meant with you,” he clears his throat. 

It isn’t  _ too _ weird because there are several stalls in the room, but Louis fixes him with a raised brow anyway. Nonetheless he steps backward to allow him some space to come in, both of them standing in front of the sinks where Louis was alone moments before. 

“Can I help you with something?” Louis asks him, trying not to sound as agitated as he feels after a few beats of silence. 

“Well, not really,” Leo says. “I just - it’s totally not my place and feel free to tell me if I’m overstepping, but you just seemed, uhm, upset? And I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” 

“I’m fine,” Louis cuts. “Tired. S’been a long week.” 

“Oh, okay. I get that,” he says, then hesitates and lingers a moment longer. “Well, if you decide that it’s something else, I had Blake text you my number. I know it’s mostly doms that work here, and I totally respect that,” he rushes, “but I know it can get kind of lonely sometimes, so - just, you have it if you need it. If you need someone to talk to or anything.” 

Louis nods and Leo nods and then they’re both just nodding, standing idly in the small space. Before he can make his own excuse to leave, Leo’s shuffling around him and muttering his own goodbyes. 

“Anyway, I’m just gonna-” Leo points to the stalls and makes a step to the side, letting Louis move toward the door. 

Louis thinks he should say thank you, say  _ something _ for the gesture, but nothing comes out. No one’s ever offered him anything quite like that before. He takes one last look at his reflection and steps back out into the hallway, blinking longingly at the marble tile below his feet. 

The client picked him. The one Louis spent months trying to impress and knows that will be exceptional for the label as a whole. So why doesn’t he feel excited about it anymore? It’s just another one down at this point. He’ll have something else he’s obsessed with over the next few weeks and then the joy will fade from that too - hours, weeks of nonstop work all for a mediocre, predictable victory. 

Slipping his coat back on, Louis takes one last glance around the party and then goes home without saying goodbye to anyone. Leo is just another person that’s seen something in Louis that’s made him think that he’s not okay - one of many.

He’s beginning to think there may be something to that. 

+

At first, Louis doesn’t think he’s going to give in. 

Leo was right, Blake had sent him his number after the party. It’s been sitting in Louis’ messages for a couple of weeks now. He’s too stubborn to open the text but he’s too curious to delete it. 

So it just sits there, taking up space in his phone and the back of his mind as the days seem to drag on even longer, his headaches pounding and his feet aching from standing on them for so long each day. 

To add to his stress, his talent scouts haven’t found anything since the last client. There’s no leads, and Louis’ going a bit insane without having something to distract himself with. He just doesn’t know why this year has been so difficult for him. 

Well, more than just a year, if he’s honest. It’s more that he’s gotten a lot worse at hiding it. Niall’s definitely picked up on it, his secretary, and Liam, one of his scouts. He’s sure even Blake has noticed at this point, though he’s too polite to say anything to him about it. It confuses Louis because he’d always seemed so happy on his own, content to work on his small startup and consistently positive. But seeing him with Leo brought on a myriad of other thoughts too, seeing how his smile was somehow ten times brighter, his voice high with laughter and cheeks blushing and rosy underneath his glasses. Louis wants that too. 

No one’s ever cornered him in a bathroom before to offer him friendship. For a good week or so after he’d ignored it altogether because Louis knows doms. He works with doms, negotiates with them, knows how they function usually. When Leo approached him, he hadn’t had any idea what to do. 

But then he went home and thought about it and figured surely it couldn’t do much harm to reach out, right? He and Blake aren’t even that close and Louis could avoid them if he needed to. 

As a result of his optimism (desperation) and a perpetually glaring headache, Louis decides to call. He doesn’t really have any idea what he’s going to say either, if Leo will even pick up the phone. 

All he knows is that he’s got to do  _ something. _ The absence of work to do has left him alone with the thoughts he tries so desperately to block out, the constant battle between feeling like he’s got everything he’ll ever need and feeling like he walks around everyday as half of a whole he doesn’t know how to fill. 

He’s restless and touchy all the time now, snapping at his employees and anyone who disagrees with him. He’s tired from nights spent tossing and turning constantly, an ache in his back and his legs from pacing and his bad posture as he stows away over his computer. He needs something to change, and he’s afraid he knows exactly what that might be. 

The dial tone rings for a solid ten seconds, long enough for Louis to consider hanging up several times over, before he picks up. 

“Hello?” 

“Uhm, hello,” he starts. “This is Louis. From work.” 

“Louis? Hey,” Leo says, rustling in the background like he’s moving. “What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“Can you talk right now?” Louis clears his throat, half hoping Leo will say no and he can pretend this never happened. He probably shouldn’t have called anyway - Leo could be busy or maybe he didn’t even mean the offer in the first place and was just trying to be polite. Maybe this was all just a major mistake -

“Sure! Do you want to meet up somewhere?” Leo says brightly, cutting through his panicking.

“No - no, I don’t think I can do this face to face. It’s better if I’m just - if you can’t see me, I think. And maybe don’t - just keep this between us, yeah?” 

“Of course, Louis, you have my word,” he promises. “I’m just alone in my car at the moment, so we’re good.” 

It takes him a few more moments to get his thoughts together. Now that he’s called and they’ve said hello he still doesn’t really have any idea what he wants to ask. He inhales deeply and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. 

“How did you and Blake meet?” 

And Louis knows the answer to that already but he needs to hear him say it, to hear the process explained. He waits with his hands nervously twisting in his lap, legs splayed out across the fluffy rug in front of his sofa because he’d drifted down onto it in one of his fits of restlessness, his muscles refusing to relax. 

“Well, I filled out a form at the DDS and they told me they’d get back to me within the next few weeks,” Leo explains. “Then I got a letter in the mail with the information. Blake already lived pretty close to me so it was a no-brainer to meet up with him as soon as we were paired since we pretty much matched on nearly everything.” 

“You weren’t scared?” Louis mumbles around his lower lip. 

“I was terrified,” he laughs. “But I knew it was what I wanted to do. And the paperwork you fill out is pretty specific so you know whoever you’re matched with will have similar tastes. After I read the information they gave me about him I just - I just felt like it was right, you know? I can’t explain it, really.” 

Louis wishes he could attribute all of this to childish naivety and inexperience, but he knows that isn’t all it is. He was there with them and he’d seen the way they looked at each other, the bond they’d formed so quickly. He can’t even deny it. 

He only has one more question he wants to ask. 

“Are you happy?” 

There isn’t even a beat of silence before Leo answers. “I’ve never been happier in my life. Blake is perfect for me and so much more than I thought I was going to get. He’s kind and understanding and he takes care of me really well. I don’t regret any of it for a second.” 

Silence settles over the line while he thinks to himself. It draws on longer and longer as Louis’ hand shakes holding the phone, frustrated tears on his lower lashline. If he doesn’t do something soon he’s afraid he’ll be numb forever but he doesn’t know how to tell someone that. He wants and wants and wants but he can’t let himself just  _ have _ , not without feeling wrong somehow. 

“Louis?” 

“I want that,” he blurts, his voice cracking. 

“Okay,” Leo says softly. “You can have it, Louis, if you want. It’s okay.” 

“I can’t. There’s no way, with the business and everything,” he chokes. “It’s just not realistic.” 

_ Come on, _ Louis thinks,  _ prove me wrong. Please.  _

“There’s always a way. If you want a dom you should apply for one. If you don’t, that’s okay too. But if you’re only holding back because of what other people might think…” he trails off, “It’s your life, Louis. You deserve to be happy, whether that means having a dom or having the company or having both.” 

“What if they don’t like that I work?” he mumbles, worrying his bottom lip with his fingers. He has to exhaust every possibility. 

“Then they aren’t right for you,” Leo answers quickly. “But I really don’t think that’ll happen. They’ll ask you those questions in the paperwork, you just have to trust the process. That’s all there is to it.” 

“You make it sound so easy,” Louis laughs nervously, glancing around the penthouse. He wonders if having someone else here with him would make it seem less empty. 

“Because it is,” Leo counters. At Louis’ silence, he continues. “Look, the absolute worst thing that can happen is that you don’t like your match. You decline and move on. I guarantee you it’s worth a shot.” 

He still waits a few moments before he nods to himself, just a subtle dip of his chin to his chest. It’s a start. 

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles quietly. “Thanks, Leo.” 

“Of course. Call me back anytime, Louis, I mean it.” 

After he says his goodbyes and a few more thank you’s, he pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up, tossing it onto the sofa cushion behind him. Leo hadn’t told him much about the process he didn’t already know, but Louis needed it anyway. He needed the confirmation of someone else’s success to hopefully facilitate his own, to know he wasn’t going into this completely blind. 

He’s got an out, now. If the system works, he can say it’s because of the success stories he’d heard. If it doesn’t, he can blame it on the younger, naive couples and go back to his solitary routines. Either way, it’s up to him to take the final step. 

Now he’s just got to make a decision. 

+

Louis wakes up early. He brushes his teeth and can only stomach a piece of toast for breakfast, dressing quickly and heading for the door. Instead of going straight to the office he heads the opposite direction, appreciating the empty roads before the traffic hits. 

He pulls into the parking lot of the Department of Dominance and Submission just as they’re unlocking the doors. It takes him all of an hour in the uncomfortable chairs to fill out the paperwork to the best and most accurate of his ability, handing it over to the receptionist as soon as he’s finished. Louis thanks her and rubs his sweaty palms on his trousers, heading back to his car and turning the AC on high despite his shivering. 

No one is at the office when he arrives, still much too early for the employees. He flips on all of the lights and settles into his office, still nauseous and with shaking hands. 

This part of his routine hasn’t changed yet, but there’s a high chance that within ten to fifteen business days, Louis will be matched with a dominant. 

Shit. 

+

For the next month or so, Louis goes insane wondering if he made the right decision. He’s nervous at work, so much that people start asking him if he needs to take some time off which - has  _ never _ happened before. It’s messing with his head. 

He’s scared. All of his short-term relationships and awkward one night stands sit shamefully in the back of his mind as he contemplates a serious future with someone. Surely it won’t be any easy transition to go from those to someone he’ll spend - hopefully - the rest of his life with. But he isn’t getting any younger either, and the itch under his skin just seems to keep getting worse by the day. 

His body is built for touch, is the thing. Every piece of his personality is geared to work in tandem with someone else’s, to be the other half of a dom. For years he fought that, complained about being independent and not needing anyone else and all of the other bullshit but he can’t do it anymore. 

People had warned him about this before but he hadn’t listened. With a job like Louis has, one where he’s in charge of everyone and giving orders constantly, it definitely takes a toll on his mental health. And as much as he typically enjoys what he does, he physically, emotionally,  _ mentally _ isn’t built to keep doing it without some kind of balance. He knows, he just - it’s overwhelming. 

It’s so overwhelming that he’s simply neglected to think about it until he had to. Until he began to feel the unsettling feeling in his gut, the need to suddenly sink to his knees when doing business with a dom only to feel the weight slip off of his shoulders for a bit. Until ultimately Louis fainted in his office and woke up on the floor behind it, blinking owlishly up at the ceiling all because someone had given him an order unintentionally earlier in the day. He’d panicked and called Leo right when he arrived home. 

He’d driven to the DDS the next morning. His pen shook in his hand when he’d filled out the paperwork, his palms sweaty when he drove home afterward. But even then it’d felt  _ right _ . Sort of. 

Now - now he isn’t sure what he’s feeling. Louis knows what he wants, but he also knows  _ himself _ . That he’s stubborn and hot-headed and argumentative, that he fights every order he’s given until eventually people just give up. It’s the way he was raised and that hadn’t changed once he’d gotten his classification. If anything it’d made him even more determined to prove everyone wrong. To defy expectations. 

At the end of the day, he knows he can’t deny it anymore. It sounds wonderful to have a dom that’s perfect and wonderful and accommodating but Louis knows it’s unlikely. He probably won’t even get a match. What kind of dominant wants a submissive that's the CEO of a company? That flinches every time he’s touched? That’s been referred to as a brat more times than he can even count?  _ The list goes on _ , Louis muses with a frown. 

So he’s a nervous wreck for an entire forty-five days, up until the envelope arrives. Snatching it out of the mailbox, Louis cradles it to his chest so no one else in the mail room will see the fancy lettering and formal logo, rushing back to his flat to open it up. 

He drops his keys into the bowl and doesn’t bother taking off his shoes or his coat before he’s falling into one of the chairs in his dining room, the light from the floor-to-ceiling window illuminating the black, modern looking font. 

_ Mr. Louis Tomlinson _ , it reads. Louis takes a deep breath.  _ Congratulations, you’ve been matched!  _

For a second he just blinks at the page until it clicks, and then his mouth drops open a bit as his breath gets caught in his throat.  _ Shit _ . He’s really been matched. He can feel his heartbeat reverberate in every part of his body. 

A deeper part of him had been convinced that he wouldn’t be matched at all. That maybe his expectations were too high or his answers too specific. That maybe those results would ease his doubts and confirm that he was better off alone. 

Instead, he’s got instructions on what to do now that he’s got a supposed match. 

_ Please reach out to us within the next 72 hours if you’d like to know more about your match and if you consent to sharing your information with them as well. Should you agree to do so, you will both receive each other’s contact information as well.  _

_ We ask you to please inform us of any potential issues or questions you may have regarding the matching process. If you end up accepting your match, you’ll need to register with us which you can do on our website or by phone.  _

_ We hope that this message finds you well and we look forward to hearing from you! Best of luck in your journey, and we have faith that this will be your perfect match!  _

A few lines below the closing is his match’s name. Louis  bites into the fleshy part of his lower lip and forces his eyes down, tracing the name with his fingertip. 

_ Harry Styles _ , it says. 

He glances briefly at all of the details provided, only a few until they consent to sharing more, and bites his lip. Everything seems too good to be true, just like he’d been afraid of.  _ Trust the process, _ Leo said. Louis tries to keep that in mind. 

His match seems very intelligent, prestigious schools and high education, even skipping a few younger grades in past years. Louis’ brows raise. 

Volunteer work is listed and a few of the man’s hobbies, a quick self-written explanation of what he likes to do in his free time and a bit about his other interests including everything from cooking and baking to writing, reading, and occasionally drawing. Louis’ interest raises. 

And then his eyes move lower, to the last line of information provided on the sheet, just a few customary details. 

_ Hair color: Brown.  _

_ Eye color: Green.  _

_ Date of Birth: February 1, 1994.  _

_ Height: 6”0.  _

Louis does a double take, his eyes bouncing back up to the date of birth.  _ 1994? _ he thinks. That would mean Harry’s younger than him. He furrows his brows and does the math in his head from his own birthday in 1987. 

Six years. Harry’s six years younger than him. It doesn’t sound like much, but what is that going to mean in terms of experience? In terms of how much he knows about being a dom or taking care of a sub? Already Louis’ beginning to doubt the process, and he feels like Harry’s age only highlights his already persistent fear that Louis’ more dom-ish than he truly wants to be. 

But he shakes his head and puts away the paperwork for now, trying to keep an open mind. He’s decided he’s going to try this. And, it’s just like Leo told him, if he wants to back out, he’s able to do so at any point, even if they’ve already met. There’s no pressure. 

Still, Louis goes to bed feeling more stressed than usual, worrying about his match on top of everything he’s got to worry about at work. He’s beginning to think this may disrupt his life and his routine a bit more than he’d been anticipating. 

He doesn’t get much rest that night. When he does manage to sleep for small intervals, he dreams of a world where they’re just people - not doms or subs or anything at all. They just exist. He wonders if things might be different then. 

+

Things move  _ fast _ . 

As it turns out, Harry is a therapist who specializes in helping submissives, which makes Louis feel just slightly better about this entire thing. If he messes it all up, Harry’s less likely to punish him or yell at him without sufficient reason. 

Once he confirmed that he’d received the match he’d also had to consent to sharing his contact information. Harry reached out to him first, another sign of a good dom, and introduced himself in an email, explaining a bit about himself, what he did for a living and where they could meet if Louis chose to do so. Though he’d been exceptionally nervous (and still is) Louis emailed him back and took him up on his offer. 

Now he’s standing in front of Harry’s office door with sweaty palms and a heartbeat that refuses to slow its rapid pace, shivering underneath the cool air coming from the vents. He doesn’t have any patients this afternoon but he does have other work he needs to finish, he’d said, and he’d be more than happy to have Louis meet him here so it’s somewhat public and he’d feel safe. 

Though his heart soars at the sweet thought, he can’t help but feel apprehensive again. Aren’t doms supposed to be demanding? Harry seems nothing of the sort, at least not yet. Forcing himself to stay optimistic, Louis raises a hand to knock on the thick wooden door, eyeing Harry’s nameplate right next to the trim.  _ Styles. _

From the other side there’s a deep voice that ceases at the sound of his knock, Harry excusing himself from a call. Louis shivers a second time at the warm vibrato even through the wall separating them. How is he supposed to do this? Inhaling sharply, he considers turning on his heel and running away, going back to his flat and pretending none of this had even happened. 

Before he can, the door swings open in front of him. 

“Louis, hi,” the man breathes, a smile extending across his cheeks. He opens the door wider for Louis to come in. “Would you prefer I keep the door open or would you be comfortable with me closing it?” 

Blinking at him once, twice, Louis swallows dryly. “Shut is fine.” 

Harry - Louis swallows nervous saliva in his mouth and tries to get a hold of himself as the younger man crosses back over to his desk. Harry is  _ gorgeous _ . He’s absolutely more than Louis could have asked for with his broad chest and his warm eyes and his long fingers, decorated with rings and tattoos alike. The small picture they’d provided in his information had done him no justice, although even it was more than Louis ever could have imagined. 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Harry says, an arm extended toward him and still smiling. His voice is low and comfortable, soothing in a way that Louis doesn’t ever hear despite working with talent. 

Louis means to shake his hand. He means to say it’s nice to meet him as well, to thank him for even giving Louis a chance at all. He means to do  _ something _ because if he doesn’t he’s afraid he may drop to his knees right now despite his years of hardening himself into someone who denies all of his base instincts. 

Instead of saying anything sensible though, all that comes out of his mouth is a loud, abrupt laugh. It’s nervous and high pitched but he doesn’t think Harry can tell that it’s his nerves, only having met him minutes ago. 

In the span of one excruciating second the smile falls from Harry’s lips and his eyes darken just a little, sadness twinging his expression as his hand falls back to his side. He clears his throat and steps back to put some more space between them, his gentle demeanor hardening into something more firm and decidedly less vulnerable. 

By this point Louis’ gotten a hold of himself enough to stop laughing but he’s still biting his lip awkwardly, the idea of him romantically involved with someone else still sitting awkwardly in his chest. 

The air goes stale between them in a matter of seconds and the knowledge of it being his fault settles uncomfortably in his stomach. 

“Why don’t you have a seat,” Harry tells him, pulling out his chair. “We can discuss a few things before I have to get back to work.” 

Numb and yet still somehow buzzing with his nerves, Louis forces his legs to move as he sits down on the sofa where his patients usually sit. He gulps, feeling like he’s also just somehow exposed all of his insecurities in the span of a few seconds. 

Oh well, he figures, it’s much too late to make a run for the door now. As Harry settles into his own chair behind his desk, Louis takes a deep, calming breath and tries to put his best face forward even though he’s probably already ruined everything. 

He hasn’t even known Harry for an hour yet and - Louis sighs, cutting off his own train of thought.  _ Be good _ , he tells himself. If he’s good maybe Harry will overlook his social ineptness in favor of potential. 

Which would be a fine plan if Louis actually knew how to be  _ good _ in the first place. 

+

After the colossal failure of their first meeting, Harry suggests they meet up somewhere outside of work when he has more time to talk. He tells Louis that he would have chosen some place like that before, but he’d been too excited to meet Louis to wait. The guilt makes Louis’ stomach sour. 

So for a second time this week he forces himself through some semblance of a beauty routine, a thorough shower and shave, skincare, styling his hair, and picking out an outfit that he thinks looks flattering. It isn’t a huge improvement, but he does feel more prepared after last time since he already knows a bit about what Harry’s like now. He sprays on some light cologne and heads for the door. 

When they continued the meeting in Harry’s office a few days prior, not much talking had been done. A lot of awkward glances, several stutters on Louis’ part, and questions Harry asked him that he had no idea how to answer correctly. The nerves had been too much but he hopes that with Harry’s job he was able to understand what the problem was. 

Still, that doesn’t excuse Louis from how he acted. Harry’s a dom, ultimately, and Louis disrespected him. No matter how uncomfortable Louis may be with the unfamiliar dynamic, he thinks he owes him an apology, because Harry’s been nothing short of wonderful in the short time he’s known him. 

He’s giving Louis a second chance, after all. And this time he isn’t going to let himself mess it up. 

Because, when he  _ really _ stops to think about it, this seems like what he needs to do. What he  _ wants _ to do. He’s sure the initial phase will be tense and awkward but he hopes what comes after will be more than worth it. The loneliness has become too much to handle on his own. 

His optimism comes and goes in waves, so while he’s still feeling it he makes his way downstairs and to the car, heading to the cafe they’d agreed to meet at before he changes his mind. 

He’s early but he thinks that might be alright in this case, so he doesn’t spare any more time overthinking before he swings open his car door, shuts it back just a little too hard, and strolls inside with his chin held high. 

With no real idea of what he’s going to say, Louis begins to look for an open table to reserve but falters when he notices that Harry’s already seated in a corner booth. One step ahead of him yet again. 

Blowing out a short breath, he stares at the ground as he makes his way over to him, blushing when Harry immediately stands and offers his arm once again in greeting. 

“Harry,” Louis breathes, “I-” 

“Let’s start over, yeah?” he finishes when Louis cuts himself off, his long fingers wrapping around Louis’ and distracting him from any other thought he was beginning to have. 

“Yeah,” Louis rasps, clearing his throat. “Yes, please.” 

It takes a few moments for them to part from the handshake, Louis’ cool skin from outside leaving the heat of Harry’s palm. He sticks it inside of his pocket to hide his flinch and sits opposite Harry in the booth. 

A waitress stops by the table to take his drink order, but Harry already got him an ice water so he politely declines. He picks it up so he’ll have something to do with his hands as he waits to see what’s going to happen. 

“I want to be honest with you,” Harry begins. Louis laces his fingers together to hide his nerves, fully prepared to be turned away as he sets the glass down again after gulping down half of it. He dreads the idea of having to do all of this over again. If Harry rejects him, he thinks he might just take it as his sign to give up altogether. “Based on everything from your file and what you shared with me the other day, I feel like this could be a very good match. I’d really like to get to know you better and, if you’re interested as well, I want to give this a real shot.”

“I understand,” Louis nods solemnly, eyes down on the table below. But then he pauses, brows furrowed, and reconsiders what he’s just heard. “Wait - what?” 

Sparing him the slightest amused smile, Harry repeats himself. “I want to give us a chance,” he says. “I think we could be really good together.” 

“Really?” 

Louis’ aware he’s pushing his luck, like if he asks too many times Harry could just change his answer, but he’s too shocked to stop himself. His mouth is moving faster than his brain at the moment but Harry seems content to keep assuring him. 

“Really,” he grins. Then, more seriously, “Does that sound like something you’d want?” 

“Yes, absolutely,” Louis breathes, shifting around in the booth with his sudden excitement. 

“Perfect. I know we spoke a little bit last time about what was on file, but do you have any questions for me or any concerns moving forward?” 

“Uhm,” Louis licks over his lips, racking his brain for the many things he’s been worrying about constantly over the last few days, “did you see that - what I do for a living?” 

“I did,” Harry nods quickly, his brows raising a bit. “I have to say, I was very impressed.”

_ Here we go, _ Louis thinks. If he’s about to get yet another lecture about how it’s so surprising that he’s a sub and a CEO he thinks he may just get up and leave right now. He crosses his legs and waits for Harry to continue. 

“You’re so young to have a company so large and I really admire that. And it’s obvious to see how much you adore it. It’s very cool,” he reiterates. 

Louis can feel his own mouth open but he can’t bring himself to close it yet. That hadn't been what he was expecting at all. 

Not only is he not immediately asking Louis to quit, but he’s saying he admires him for it? Louis’d been prepared for some long speech about how he was surprised a sub could make it that far in the business world but yet again he’s destroyed any of Louis’ negative expectations. 

Unfortunately, that last bit of skepticism still swirls around in his tummy, reminding him that this is only the second time they’ve met. Should things get any more serious and they officially accept the match, Harry could make him leave the company altogether. This could be his way of getting close with him before sweeping the rug out from under his feet. 

_ I’ve never been happier in my life. I don’t regret any of it for a second. _ Leo’s words echo in his head, reminding him not to judge too quickly yet again. Louis takes another long sip of his drink and glances hesitantly upward. 

“Would you be alright with making this a weekly thing until we get to know each other better?” Harry asks him, eyes soft around the edges and body language open. 

“I - yes, that should work,” Louis nods, picturing his work schedule in his head. He doesn’t think anything should interfere but even if it did, he’s the boss. So. 

“Perfect,” Harry smiles, “I’ll make sure to write it down in my calendar.” 

Louis’ eyes stay on him as he pulls out his phone to do exactly that, his fingers typing away at the screen. He still can’t quite believe he’s here, that all of this is real, and his brain is trying frantically to catch up. 

He thinks maybe it’s because he still sort of has the mentality that it won’t work. Louis’ great at making promises, but when it comes to following through, romantically anyway, he’s always had some trouble. He hopes Harry’s up to the test. 

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Louis sucks on the straw until the noise of his empty glass echoes between them. Then he sets it down on the table and wipes his palms on his trousers just as Harry pockets his phone once again. 

For the first time since he received the letter notifying him that he’d been matched, Louis thinks maybe, there might be just a chance, that this could work. 

+

Throughout the next few meetings, Louis’ anxiousness about his job doesn’t cease to stick on his mind. When he finally tells Harry what’s been bothering him, the following suggestion isn’t one he’s a big fan of at first. 

Bringing Harry up to the company is something he hadn’t considered doing until much later in the relationship, if  _ ever, _ if he’s honest. He’s got a love-hate relationship with his work-self. On one hand he enjoys a lot about finding new talent, working one-on-one with clients, and watching people succeed. On the other hand, none of that feels very submissive to him. He doubts any dominant would want to see their sub delegating and being so in charge, and the last thing he wants is Harry to feel threatened in any way. 

He just doesn’t know how to explain yet that he wants these things to be separate, his work and his personal life. A balance. He hopes Harry’s intuitive enough to figure that out because Louis certainly isn’t eloquent enough to explain it to him. Yet, anyway. 

Despite his hesitance, he can’t bring himself to say no when Harry suggests coming into work with him for a day to see what it’s like. Louis figures that he might as well be perfectly honest upfront, that way if Harry doesn’t plan on sticking around it won’t hurt as much when he bails. 

The real thing that he thinks is scaring him is the fact that people will  _ see _ Harry. His coworkers and secretary and friends - there will be proof that Louis tried to find a dominant and there’ll be proof if Harry never comes back again. People will know Louis couldn’t make him stay. 

Like most situations though, Louis’ already put himself in that position. He’s quite literally already standing in the lift with Harry on the way up to his office suite. He never leaves himself enough time or opportunity to back out, which hasn’t been such an overwhelmingly positive thing as of late. 

“This is it,” Louis tells him, stepping out onto the familiar marbled tile. 

“It’s lovely,” Harry notes. He runs his eyes all over the highly elevated lobby, from the furniture and plants to the giant windows lining the far wall, bright morning sunlight beaming in through them. 

He’d taken the day off just so he could spend it with Louis, and the nerves to make the day count are beginning to set in. Just as he’s heading to his office, Blake steps out from the copy room, a stack of papers in his hands. 

“Morning, Louis,” he says, “sorry about that, the copier on my floor’s down again.” 

Waving him off, Louis tells him it’s no big deal as he begins to sweat. His mouth parts and he glances back at Harry behind him, wondering what he should do. 

“Blake, this is Harry,” he settles on. It’s not anything official just yet so he decides to play it safe and vague. 

A grin blooms over Blake’s face and his eyes light up, a knowing glint in them as he shifts his gaze from Louis to Harry. He extends an arm and steps forward, balancing the papers in the opposite hand. 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Blake says, shaking his hand. “I’ve got to get back to work but I definitely want to go out sometime, the four of us, alright?” 

“Alright,” Harry nods, smiling softly. “That sounds lovely.” 

Exhaling gratefully, Louis’ shoulders wilt as the tenseness seeps out of his posture. That’d gone really well, he muses. Turning back toward Harry as Blake steps onto the lift, he nods in the direction of his office and begins to head toward the hallway again. 

And then, just because it’s his luck, they manage to run into two more of his workers near reception. Louis quickens his steps and tries to get Harry to follow his direction, but he should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to get away with it so easily. 

Michael and Jake have worked for the company nearly as long as Louis has. They’re bright and talented at what they do for the public relations department, but they’re just as arrogant. Whatever Michael does, Jake’s always just one step behind him, and they always seem to feed off of each other. Louis avoids them as much as he can, but their teasing nature tends to flare up at the worst times. 

He freezes as Michael calls his name. Slowly blinking and turning on his heel, Louis changes directions and heads their way with his nervousness soaring in every step. He can hear Harry’s soft footsteps behind him still. 

“You finally find yourself a dom?” he asks, his tongue poking out of one side of his mouth cockily. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Michael?” he drawls. 

“C’mon, Louis,” Jake says innocently, “we’re just wondering.” 

As Louis’ gaze narrows on him Michael takes the opportunity to continue the conversation, this time speaking straight to Harry flippantly. 

“You’re really gonna have your hands full with this one,” Michael snorts, glancing between them. 

“I’m sorry?” Harry murmurs. His head tilts to one side curiously and Louis flinches. 

“Well, it’s just, Louis isn’t really one to take it lying down, y’know,” Jake chuckles. “He’s always seemed like more of a -  _ ow _ !” 

The feeling of Louis’ heel meeting his shin shuts him up very quickly. Michael however, doesn’t seem to be quite finished. 

He looks Harry up and down deliberately and narrows his eyes, his lips turning into a smirk. “Yeah, good luck, dude. We’ll see how long this one lasts, Louis, yeah? Maybe if you’re a good boy he’ll fetch your coffee for you,” he snickers. 

“Get back to work, both of you.” 

Still chuckling to themselves, Jake follows Michael back down the hall to their own suites and Louis holds his breath until they’re out of sight. Then he spins again and loses his words as his gaze settles back on Harry’s blank expression. 

“Can we step into your office? I’d like to discuss a few things with you,” Harry says. 

Nodding, Louis tries to keep his own disposition neutral as he walks the few steps to his office and lets Harry inside, shutting the door behind them for some privacy. 

He knows already that he’s managed to make him uncomfortable, but he isn’t willing to give up his job. This is why he’d been nervous about bringing him here in the first place, because Louis is familiar with it, but other people aren’t. It’s a specific algorithm that it takes to manage the company and he gets how it might seem to an outsider. 

Before Harry can change his mind and tell Louis he’d like him to quit anyway, Louis figures he should try to shut that down as quickly as possible. He rubs his palms together and faces him, trying to keep his voice even despite his nerves. 

“Look, Harry, I know that my job might make you a bit uncomfortable but-” 

“Your job doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all, Louis. I want you to be happy and I adore how passionate you are about what you do,” he says immediately, like he’d thought of what to say already over the last few minutes. “However, this won’t work without open communication. I want to be honest with you - while I don’t have any issue with your position, I have to say that the way your coworkers talk to me, and  _ you _ , makes me feel - uhm, not good,” Harry frowns, his bottom lip stuck between his fingers, “I feel that it’s highly unprofessional to speak to me as if I’m not standing there and should you ever be put in that position, I would put a stop to it immediately. I know that we don’t know each other that well quite yet but it - it hurts my feelings and I would appreciate it if you would ask them not to do that again and I wish they would have more respect for you as well.” 

Louis stands there stock still, his mouth dropped open just slightly. This is a  _ dom _ . Louis’ never seen one so willing to be open about his feelings, especially not so soon in a relationship, and his admission makes him a bit surprised. 

More than that though, is the fact that Louis is genuinely speechless. Harry already reprimanding him definitely has its effects that he hadn’t been expecting, a bitter feeling coiling in his tummy and up the back of his throat, his eyes suddenly burning as he struggles for something to say. 

He feels like his hand has just been slapped. When they’d arrived today he’d still been fully sure that this wasn’t going to work out and that, for as long as it did, Louis would just go about his life as normal and try to act like he didn’t have a dominant so many years younger than him. Now, though - there’s a blush high in his cheeks and a stutter to his heartbeat, his hand shaking subtly when he smooths out the front of his suit. 

“I - I will tell them,” Louis manages, clearing his throat to fill the silence. 

“I understand how you feel,” Harry nods to himself, stepping closer. “But I refuse to be treated like this any longer. As much as you try to deny it, we were matched for a reason, Louis. As of right now, unless you decide otherwise, you’re my sub, and I am your dom.” He steps even more into Louis’ space, his footfalls loud and sure as he comes to a stop right in front of him. Harry puts a finger underneath his chin and pulls his head upwards, looking him in the eye. “I like to think of myself as a fair person, but this attitude you’ve got going on has already gone on far too long.” 

Harry reaches down and takes Louis’ smaller, sweatier hand in his own, leading him over to the sofa in the corner of the office. He sits down and leans backward, leaving his lap an open invitation. Louis stutters, his blush raising higher. 

“I’d like you to lean over my  lap , please,” Harry says. 

Eyes widening, Louis stays still at first. He wants to laugh in his face, to turn around and yell about how this is his office and he won’t stand for it, but something keeps him from doing so. There’s a look in Harry’s eye that seems almost like a test, seeing if Louis will comply. And, honestly, Louis figures it might just be the least he can do after embarrassing him in front of all of his colleagues. 

Gulping, he steps forward and squeezes his eyes shut, kneeling onto the leather before tipping forward and trying to settle across Harry’s  lap in the least awkward way possible. Harry runs a soothing hand down the length of his back and stops at the band of his trousers. 

“I’ve tried to be understanding, but there’s only so much I’ll tolerate. I’ve been nothing but respectful and chivalrous to you and all you’ve done is laughed in my face, made snap judgements, and ignored me.” 

Louis fights to keep himself centered so he doesn’t lose his breath, focusing instead on the calming feeling of Harry’s hand massaging his skin lightly. 

“I’m going to spank you,” Harry announces, short and abrupt, “because you’ve been disrespectful and I’d like to establish a better dynamic from here on out. We’ll only do ten. This is not a punishment, Louis, this is simply to establish our roles. Do you understand? Do you have any objections or anything you’d like to say before we begin about how you’re feeling?” 

“I understand. I-” Louis starts to complain again but bites his tongue, dropping his head down. “I’m sorry.” 

Harry rubs his thumb lightly over Louis’ back and nods above him. “And your color?” 

“Green,” Louis says dryly, feeling hot anticipation building in his veins. 

There’s only been one time he’s been spanked, and that’d been once when he’d been with a guy who’d done it spur of the moment and hadn’t discussed it with him beforehand. It hadn’t hurt or anything, but his bony fingers hitting all the wrong spots certainly ruined the mood. He’d already been not the best and not all that concerned with whether or not Louis got off, and the awkward slapping in the wrong spots had chased away any low chance of an impending orgasm. 

Already this situation feels much different than that, and that’s the only thing that makes him relaxed enough to just trust Harry. He isn’t expecting it when the first slap lands right in the middle of his arse, and he gasps loudly and twitches. It doesn’t feel sexual and Harry isn’t touching him at all in between, but the effects of the power switch have his head spinning just a bit after so long going without. 

Louis’ neck relaxes and it drops limply, left staring at the marble floor of his office. Below him, his hands are curled awkwardly into his chest, scrambling out for purchase every time he’s jerked forwards with Harry’s slaps even though they aren’t all that harsh, most of the impact happening in his head and not externally. 

No, Harry certainly doesn’t have to worry about him talking any longer. His mouth has run dry and dropped open the slightest bit, his eyes glazed over while small breaths tumble past his spit slick lips. 

It’s over before he knows it and the entire experience leaves him feeling ungrounded slightly, confused and reaching out to hold onto whatever he can get his hands on. He feels deep sorrow above anything else, the need to apologize heavy on his tongue. 

“Are you alright, love? C’mere, look at me,” Harry murmurs, grabbing both sides of Louis’ face to tilt his limp head backwards once he’s helped him into a sitting position again. “You’ve done so well for me. Did you hear that? I’m so, so proud of you.” 

Unable to put his feelings into words, Louis stares wide-eyed at him and blinks, his lower lip jutting outward. He can’t put his finger on his emotions but he knows they’re unlike anything he usually feels. He can’t tell whether he wants to yell, cry, or sit numbly. 

Harry strokes the back of his neck softly until he feels more stable, speaking in low tones so that the words are only for them. Before this Louis thought that spanking wasn’t really a correctional punishment, rather just something that guys did simply because it turned them on. But Harry isn’t aroused, Louis can tell from sitting on his lap, and Louis isn’t either. He’s surprised that what Harry told him it was is actually what it turned out to be and nothing more, and even somewhat grateful. 

“Things are going to be different from now on, alright?” he murmurs to Louis. 

“I don’t want - please don’t make me quit,” Louis whimpers, shaky as he turns his head from side to side, leaning forward into his chest. 

“Oh, of  _ course _ not, love. I wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry emphasizes, pressing a hot kiss into his cheek. “You love your job so much, I can already tell. I would never take that away from you.” 

Louis calms slightly, comforted that he won’t have to leave. He really does love his job, and he thinks it would’ve been a major deal breaker for them if Harry threw a fit. By the same token, Louis supposes he needs to compromise a bit more too. 

Harry is allowing him his freedom still, something most doms take dangerously for granted. Especially when that freedom entails being a CEO, and especially when said CEO has taken every chance so far to let his coworkers - and  _ himself _ \- doubt and belittle his dom. 

Shifting them so Louis is laying more comfortably in his arms, Harry strokes a finger over his cheekbone as his quiet voice continues. 

“I just mean that we’re going to make some private changes, yeah? I want nothing more than to take care of you, Louis,” he smiles softly, “but you have to  _ let me _ .” 

By the time Louis’ pulse has calmed and his cheeks regain their normal color, he and Harry are, thankfully, the only ones left in the building. It’s the only reason he feels brave enough to stand up on his feet again, to grapple for Harry’s arm before he stumbles, his head spinning a bit after laying down and dozing for a few minutes. 

But Harry doesn’t scold him for not having himself fully together just yet, only places his own hand over Louis’ and helps him gather his few things, walking him out of the office and back downstairs with an arm around his waist to keep him grounded. 

Harry tells him he’s taking Louis back to his penthouse and Louis nods, letting himself be buckled in and situated in the passenger seat. His brain is stuck somewhere between enjoying the gentle treatment and being ashamed of that, his senses haywire but his movements slow and lethargic. 

He blinks at the lights as they drive back through the city. They’re too bright in contrast with the darkness in the car and outside, so eventually he shuts his eyes altogether and leans his forehead against the cool window, exhaling. 

Seconds or hours later the car pulls to a stop and he blinks again, feeling frozen, like his limbs are too heavy to lift. At the sound of Harry clearing his throat though, Louis manages to crane his neck in that general direction. 

“I - I’m really sorry if I came across too strongly, it’s just -” Harry sighs, shaking his head. “You have to understand, Louis, I’ve waited my entire life for this. To have a submissive, I mean. I just - I really would like for us to work. I know that I’m younger than what you had in mind but I think we could really be what each other needs.” 

Despite the heaviness of his body, he runs his half-lidded eyes over Harry’s face. Everything about him screams dominant, from his jaw to his voice to his muscular frame and his long, nimble fingers. But beneath all of that there’s also a gentleness that Louis can tell underlines everything he does. It’s understanding, and willingness to compromise, and  _ patience, _ and Louis thinks it might just be the key to making this entire thing work. 

“I think so too,” he settles on, running his tongue over his dry lips. 

Finally, Harry’s eyes go hopeful and he exhales, shoulders relaxing some. He reaches across the dash and holds Louis’ cheek. 

“One chance is all I’m asking of you, okay?” He murmurs, smiling wider as Louis dozes once again. “I’ll see you soon, love.” 

After making sure he’s alright to walk up by himself for a good ten minutes (he has Louis’ address but not his flat number and assures him that he wants him to feel comfortable by keeping that private for now), he presses his lips into Louis’ cheek and bids him goodnight a final time. 

Louis makes it upstairs and unlocks his flat, falling into bed as soon as his knees hit the edge. He sleeps the entire ten hours. 

+

Although he gets the best sleep he’s gotten in years that night, he doesn’t see Harry for a full week afterward. And, unfortunately, the effects of the brief relief he had felt wore off fairly quickly. It’d frustrated him that he couldn’t just achieve that on his own, that he was already becoming dependent on a dominant. No matter what he tried, changing sleep schedules, drinking a glass of milk before bed, none of it worked. 

So the pleasantries of his rest faded into frustration once again, and he found himself half-loathing and half-excited about when he’d see Harry next. 

Which just so happens to be tonight, the end of the week, when they meet with Blake and Leo for dinner. Louis’ nervous now for an entire slew of reasons. 

He knows Blake and Leo’s relationship just sort of fell into place. Not that they hadn’t worked for it, but they just seem to click with each other. He thinks he and Harry could get there too, although there’s much more work to be done first, mostly on Louis’ part. So he’s already self conscious about that.

On top of that, he’s got to make sure he still makes a good impression on Harry. They’re still in the beginning stages after all, and either of them could deny the match at any point. Louis isn’t entirely sure whether he wants the stability and newness of confirming it, or if he’d rather just escape back into his familiar loneliness where he’s much less anxious. 

Now he’s here, with Harry, waiting for the other two to arrive. It isn’t awkward but it isn’t comfortable either, and Louis tugs at his sleeves for something to do. 

The restaurant they’re at is downtown in the fancy part of the city, strong lights hung over all the streets and the valet workers waiting at the front of the doors. It would be really romantic actually, if Louis could stop worrying about everything else going on instead. 

He’d picked out one of his nicer, simpler suits to wear for the evening since he doesn’t have much casual attire. Harry’s opted for much the same look, a black suit with a light purple button up shirt underneath. Louis absolutely does not take note of the fact that the inner lining of it is floral printed, the contrast of his tan skin with the pastel colors very distracting as he tries to glance over the menu. 

It’s the first time he’s ever seen Harry in a real suit. He’s always wearing something business casual, most likely to make his patients feel more comfortable, Louis figures. Usually he’s in a button down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his trousers a simple black or grey with reading glasses propped on top of his tousled, curly hair. Louis can’t decide which he likes better. 

“Do you know what you’d like to eat?” Harry murmurs from beside him, head tilted in his direction. 

“I can’t decide,” Louis bites his lip. “Maybe just a salad? They’re amazing here.” 

Harry nods to himself, eyes moving back to his own menu. “Maybe I’ll try one as well, then.” 

Not much later, Louis spots Leo rounding the corner to the private part of the dining room, pulling Blake along behind him. He and Harry both stand to greet them, Leo grinning and giving him a tight hug while Blake and Harry shake hands again. 

Even though he hasn’t known Leo long, they’ve been keeping in touch over the phone and Louis appreciates having someone who sort of understands the struggle to sympathize with. He takes a deep breath and slides back into the booth beside Harry, hoping that they look put together enough to seem on the same level, although he knows they aren’t the type to judge. 

It’s just - Louis’ very much used to the Pity Look. The one people give him when they realize he’s alone even at his age, when they assume he must be so lonely, so unsatisfied with his life despite his massive success. None of which was ever true. Until recently, anyway. 

He wants to avoid that look at all costs. Louis wants something he can show off, be proud of. For once he wants people to be envious of him and not the other way around. It’s taken him much too long to figure out that money and material success will only take him so far, and he wants this to work out just as much as he thinks he might be better off alone for the rest of his life. 

The server that greeted them when they came in returns to fill up their glasses and take Blake and Leo’s drink orders. Louis’ already finished one glass of his wine, the flute shiny and empty in front of him. He watches the light pink bubbly liquid raise to the top once again. 

“Louis tells me you’re working on your own startup?” Harry prompts Blake after their introductions, taking a sip of his own glass. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, “it’s just in the opening stages right now, but Louis was kind enough to let us rent out that space since he owns both floors. It’s in the perfect spot in the city, and we’ve had a lot of success already,” he grins, eyes twinkling. 

He can feel Harry’s gaze flicker over to him momentarily, most likely at the fact that he hadn’t known that Louis owned more of the building. Inhaling sharply, Louis picks up his glass and promptly downs half of it, swirling the rest around in a hypnotizing pattern until he isn’t looking anymore. 

“That’s wonderful,” Harry resumes their conversation. “And you, Leo? Are you still studying?” 

The reminder of their younger ages makes Louis grip his glass even harder, the wine turning bitter on his taste buds. 

“I just graduated actually,” he smiles, “I studied film and acting. Blake’s been helping me dip my toes into a bit of that recently,” he laughs to himself, his cheeks a bit red. 

“Have you graduated, Harry?” Blake asks, changing the subject quickly. “You’re twenty-two, right?” 

Harry swallows and nods. “I have, yes. I took advanced courses when I was a teenager since I already knew what I wanted to do for a living. After that I went straight into an accelerated program to get my master’s, and started my own practice by the time I’d just turned twenty-one. I was incredibly lucky to have several scholarships as well to help me through it.” 

Mouth open the slightest bit, Louis can’t hide his shock. He knew Harry was young but he hadn’t ever considered how much he would’ve had to work in order to achieve that much at his age. It reminds Louis of everyone that used to tell him he couldn’t meet his goals either. He hopes his shock isn’t too obvious. 

“That’s amazing,” Leo gasps, leaning further into Blake’s side. “I actually have a few friends that have gone to see you before that speak so highly of you.” 

Immediately Harry’s cheeks break into a bright grin, his eyes light. “That makes me so happy to hear. I very much enjoy what I do.” 

Louis’ still staring at him when Blake changes the subject, shifting his attention to Louis. “How’s the business going? Congratulations again on that big client!” 

How is Louis supposed to talk about himself after everything Harry said? He shakes his head and huffs a small laugh for appearances. 

“It’s going well. We’ve got a lot of new talent I’m really excited about,” he smiles, tense. They’ve signed no new talent since last month. 

To take some of the attention off of himself and prevent any further questions, Louis grabs his glass and downs the rest of it. Luckily, before anyone can comment, the waiter returns to their table to take their orders for the night. 

Harry orders his own and then turns to Louis with a brief pause, his eyes searching. Just barely Louis glances back at him, but then he shifts his gaze to the waiter and rattles off his familiar order from when he’d eat here with clients. 

“Can I get the house salad with grilled chicken, please?” Louis asks. “Just the house dressing is fine.” 

The waiter turns toward Blake and prompts him for his order as soon as Louis’ finished, stuffing the menus underneath his arm. 

“I think I’ll just go with the smoked salmon and a side salad,” he decides. 

“And for you, sir?” he turns toward Leo. 

“He’ll have the Parmesan Risotto with roasted shrimp, and an extra side of the sauce, please,” Blake adds, handing the menu back to the server. 

Louis sort of freezes, his brain flashing back to before they arrived when Harry asked him what he was going to get. Had he been looking to order for Louis? Was it a test to see if Louis would let him? He rubs his sweaty palms on his trousers underneath the table as everyone finishes ordering. 

Leo seems perfectly content that Blake ordered for him, pressing his lips to his cheek in thanks. When Louis glances sideways to Harry he doesn’t seem angry or put off, but he does seem the slightest bit disappointed. Fuck. 

“Can I get a refill?” Louis adds quickly before the server leaves the table, holding up the empty flute. 

Awkward silence follows his request but at this point Louis can’t bring himself to care. He wishes he and Harry were alone, or that he and Leo were alone, so that he could at least just focus on one thing at a time. But it feels like too much trying to balance both, a new friendship and a new romance. He’s going to mess all of it up if he’s not careful. 

For a few minutes he zones out staring at where Blake and Leo are pressed together across from them, smiling intimately at each other every few minutes and sharing drinks. The furrow in his brow only ceases when Harry leans closer to him, a gentle brush of his fingers on the back of Louis’ hand to get his attention. 

“Alright?” he murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “M’good.” 

Although he doesn’t seem convinced, he leans back again and engages in the conversation, keeping Leo and Blake occupied. Louis’ grateful, thinks he might be doing it on purpose since he can tell that Louis doesn’t want to talk much anymore. 

He should though, really, because the opportunity is right there in front of him. He could be making an effort if he tried. 

The refill of his drink recaptures his attention as they bring the salads out, and Louis takes another large gulp before he begins eating. He’s grateful to have something to focus his attention on - an excuse to keep to himself without being quite as awkward. 

Still he can’t seem to go completely unnoticed though, and Leo nudges him from across the table to give him an approving nod toward Harry, who’s still talking with Blake. Louis tries to smile back around his drink. 

“I met Liam the other day,” he mentions to Louis, cutting up a bit of his food. “Blake introduced me. He’s one of the talent scouts right?” 

“Yep,” Louis clips. The alcohol is already beginning to get to him, his voice taking on a harder edge than before. He can feel it, knows that he should stop, but he brings the glass back up to his lips and tilts his head fully backward until it’s gone anyway. 

Sniffing and raising a brow, Leo clears his throat and tries to continue. “I bet that would be a cool job. But yours is probably the best, I’d say. You get to do the fun part, right? Making people’s dreams come true,” he pushes. 

It’s just bad timing, but Louis can’t help the frustration that bubbles up in him. He appreciates the half-compliment but most of his job isn’t that glamorous - not half as much as it used to be. Louis used to have a  _ passion _ for it. He thinks he still could, but he’s still battling that emptiness and it only makes him even more angry that he doesn’t know how to fill it, might not even be able to on his own despite his long-standing need to be independent. 

“It’s fine,” he offers, chewing on a mouthful of his salad. 

“You don’t enjoy it?” Leo asks, confusion etched into his stupid, perfect face. Louis wishes he had it all together like him. 

At this point the other conversation has faded and Harry and Blake are quiet, listening in for his answer. Louis shrugs. 

“I don’t know. I love my job. There’s just a few things I would have done differently, I guess.” He nudges a large piece of lettuce with his fork. Louis doesn’t even have any idea what he’s talking about anymore, but he can feel the anger clawing at him again. 

“That’s okay,” Harry insists lightly from beside him. “There’s always time to change your mind and switch paths - whatever you want to do.” 

“No, there isn’t,” Louis argues. “Not for everyone.” 

“What’re you talking about?” Blake utters carefully, head tilted the slightest bit. He seems like he’s hesitant to insert himself into the conversation but Louis’ filter disappeared a few refills ago. 

“Well, I’m twenty-eight, aren’t I?” Louis laughs, “I’m fairly set in my ways. I don’t really have the time to make any super big life changes anymore.” 

“Of course you do,” Harry faces him fully, his voice firm. 

“Easy for you to say,” Louis mutters. 

“Excuse me?” 

The hard tone has him freezing, the dominant edge to his words finally making Louis’ brain catch up with his mouth. His cheeks flood with color, his wrist dropping limply back to the table as the fork clangs against the plate. Suddenly he feels like the fight has drained out of him, his emotions frantic with the alcohol and his suppressed submissive tendencies.  _ Dammit, _ he thinks, this is why he doesn’t drink. 

“I-” Louis starts. 

“We’re going to step to the restroom,” Blake says, offering a hand to help Leo out of the booth, an unspoken conversation between him and Harry. Just before they leave Leo nods once at him, but the assurance does little to ease his nerves. He wishes he could hide underneath the table. 

It’s quiet for a moment as he waits for what Harry’s going to say, how he’s going to scold him. A thousand scenarios run through his head, only silenced when Harry speaks lowly to him in the empty booth, clear and calm. 

“Do you want a dom, Louis?” 

“Yes,” he whines embarrassingly, tears already swimming in his eyes. 

“You’ve got to stop fighting me, then,” Harry breathes, his shoulders dropping. “I want to take care of you, not hurt you or embarrass you. I’m here for  _ you _ , alright? Two-way street.” 

“Two-way street,” Louis repeats dumbly, accepting the hesitant embrace Harry offers when he opens his arms for a hug. 

“Mhm,” Harry hums, wrapping his arms around Louis’ shoulders. “We’re good for each other, I think. We’re on the same team here, remember?” 

“I’m sorry,” Louis apologizes. “I didn’t mean it-” he cuts himself off when his voice gives out. 

Harry only runs a hand down the back of his head and nods. “I know you didn’t, it’s alright. We’re alright.” 

There’s no way Louis gets this many chances. One day, probably soon, he’s going to mess up badly enough that it can’t be fixed with just a tearful apology. For now, he settles into Harry’s embrace and sighs, grateful. 

Luckily his salad was small and everyone else was nearly done eating, so when Blake and Leo come back from the restroom they decide it might be time to call it a night. Harry disappears for a moment as they walk outside together, Leo’s arm linked through his. 

“Hey, everything okay?” he whispers, helping Louis to the car and moving away from Blake so they can talk privately. 

“Hm?” Louis hums. The night air is cold and sobers him just a bit, Leo’s question registering a few seconds behind still. “Oh, yeah. We’re fine.” 

“That’s good,” he nods. “The two of you seem really good together, Louis. I’m happy for you,” Leo smiles. 

Unable to help himself, Louis throws himself forward and wraps him in a hug, his emotions all over the place. His anger has faded into thankfulness, both for Harry’s leniency and understanding and to have such lovely friends he’d stumbled upon. 

“Thank you,” Louis chokes. 

“Of course,” Leo grins, patting him on the back as he pulls away, Harry’s voice now audible around them as he says goodbye to Blake a few cars over. “Remember you can call me anytime, yeah?” 

“Yeah, I will,” he promises. 

He waves goodbye a final time and lets Harry help him into the passenger seat, buckling him in just like he had last time he drove him home after visiting the office. 

“Where did you go?” Louis slurs, his neck turning to glance at him as he drives. 

“Went to get this,” Harry answers smoothly, pulling a takeout bag from under his seat and holding it out for Louis to take. 

Eagerly he accepts, placing it in his lap so he can see into it. It’s dark but underneath the street lights every few seconds he can see the clear container, chocolate cake with the buttercream frosting and whipped cream on top, fresh from the restaurant. 

Louis’ favorite dessert. 

“How did you-?” 

“It’s in your paperwork,” Harry explains, a bit bashful. “It’s a bit of a drive over here so I figured we should get it while we were there.” 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

“S’no problem,” Harry grins, turning down the familiar streets he’d just driven the week before. 

Within the next few minutes, before Louis can even fully comprehend the magnitude of the small, kind gesture, they’re pulling back into his complex. Something kicks in him as he unbuckles, and he turns to Harry with a slight blush. 

“Are you - do you want to walk me up?” Louis bites his lip. 

“Are you comfortable with that?” Gaze snapping to him, Harry waits until he nods to take him up on the offer, then gives a relieved sigh. “I’d love to.” 

Louis’ spent a long time taking care of himself. He’s a bit tired, to be frank, and he thinks he might like having someone to lean on every once in a while. 

And he does so, literally, grabbing onto Harry’s arm as he slides out of the car since he’s still a bit wobbly. He rarely drinks and can’t remember ever getting wine drunk before, but he writes it off to the fact that he hasn’t had alcohol in quite a while now. He grips Harry’s shirt harder as they cross the threshold into his building, squinting at the bright lights. 

Part of him hopes that his neighbors see them walking in, that they think he’s managed to finally settle down. He can only imagine the looks on their faces. 

Harry presses the button for the lift and waits, his hand resting on Louis’ lower back politely. Louis presses into that and to everywhere else they’re touching as they step into the elevator, their sides stitched together, his body heat ceasing where Louis shivers from being outside. 

“D’you have your key, love?” 

While he fumbles around to find it in one of his pockets, Harry shifts the chocolate cake onto his other arm and helps him turn it the right way into the lock, pushing the door the slightest bit open. 

“Thanks,” Louis tells him, cheeks still red with embarrassment. 

“Will you be alright?” Harry checks again. 

Setting the cake down just inside the doorway, he fixes Louis with his intense gaze and waits patiently for his answer as Louis blinks. 

“I will,” he nods. 

“Okay. Now, go sleep this off and give me a call if there’s anything you need, alright? I don’t mind coming back over if you need me.” 

“Wait-” Louis stutters blankly as Harry begins to turn away, his words not cooperating with him. “What about - punishment?” 

“Punishment?” Harry repeats, his brows furrowed. “Why would I punish you?” 

“I drank too much. I embarrassed you - me -  _ us. _ I didn’t even let you order for me,” he lists without hesitation. “I was bad.” 

“Louis, love,” he sighs, “we haven’t entered into any arrangement yet. There’s no contract, no rules or anything I’ve asked of you yet. This is a stressful, unfamiliar process and you’re trying to cope with it, I’m not going to punish you for that,” he explains. “Although I am glad I was there and I wish you wouldn’t ever drink by yourself for your own safety in the future.” 

Louis isn’t the most attractive when he drinks. He knows this from too many times he’d caught his own reflection back when he used to host an office party every week, living like he had no responsibilities and celebrating his early successes. He knows his hair’s out of place because there’s a piece that won’t stop hanging right in his vision, his shoes scuffed from tripping on the concrete outside the restaurant. His clothes have shifted with his slouching, and he can feel his lips dry from his mouth hanging open. 

Yet Harry’s still here, still sure. Somehow Louis hasn’t scared him off yet. This is far from his worst, but it’s certainly not  _ good, _ and he figures that’s more than enough judgement if Harry hasn’t backed down yet. 

“I’m not going to be one of your patients,” Louis says clearly. “I’m not a case you can work on. I have a lot to learn and I need help, but I want - I want a relationship. I don’t want to be patronized.” 

“God, Louis, never,” Harry swears, sharp concern etched into his features. “I’d never treat you like that. That’s not even - you’re already so much more to me than that. And I’ve got things to learn too, yeah? We can learn together, if that’s - if it’s something you want.” 

The buzz had given him enough courage to admit the final thing he’d been worried about, and now he’s got nothing left to hide behind. No other reason to say no. 

And it takes a lot more than just the words, they’ll have to go fill out the paperwork and nail down the other details, not to mention the fact that there’s still much to learn about each other, but Louis can’t just let this opportunity go. Not when it’s right here in front of him, ready for the taking if he is. 

He tilts his chin up to look Harry in the eye again, feeling much more sober than he was when they left the restaurant. He blinks twice and Harry does it back, lips twitching fondly. Gulping down his nerves, Louis makes his decision. 

“I accept.” 

+

Just like before, things move relatively fast. This time though, Louis feels more prepared for it, less like he’s going to run at any moment. 

He can’t anymore, technically. He and Harry signed the papers that confirmed their match early on Monday morning, and now they’ll have to file for separation if it doesn’t work out. Harry’s obviously optimistic though, and Louis feels like it’s making him hopeful too. 

In honor of their newfound level in their relationship, Louis clears his work schedule for the day and invites Harry over for lunch so they can lay down some ground rules. Not anything serious just yet, but at least a foundation that Harry promises they’re going to ease into at Louis’ pace. 

Though he’s still slightly embarrassed about getting tipsy, he’s glad that he was able to get off his chest what was truly bothering him, and make it clear that he doesn’t want to be a job for Harry, but rather someone he can learn from. Maybe they can learn from each other, even. 

Knowing they signed the match papers makes it all feel more real, which is simultaneously more reassuring and more terrifying. On one hand, Harry can’t just up and run away. On the other, Louis can’t either. 

He did stop by the office in the morning simply because he couldn’t stay away, but Niall, who he’d caught up briefly with over a short lunch the week before, urges him to get home and let them worry about everything else for the day. He picks up takeout while he’s in town and then heads back to the penthouse where Harry’s supposed to meet him soon. 

Louis takes a quick shower and dries his hair, then puts on his trousers and a t-shirt, the most casual outfit he owns. He’s finishing up setting out the food when the buzzer sounds next to the front door, Harry’s voice filtering through it. 

“Louis? It’s me,” he rasps. 

“Come on up,” Louis tells him with a private, giddy smile, pressing the button to allow him in. 

He glances around the room to make sure everything’s in order, wiping his palms on his thighs and compulsively fixing his hair on his forehead. The knock at the door has him freezing, and with a sharp inhale, Louis steps forward to open it. 

“Hello,” Harry grins, stepping past the threshold when Louis allows him room. He leans down and kisses him on the cheek, the soft fabric of his long coat raising goosebumps on Louis’ arm. “You look lovely.” 

“Hi,” Louis returns quietly, “you do too.” 

He takes the time to show Harry around properly before they end up at the dining room table, giving him a tour of each area of the penthouse (except for the far hallway), which Harry says he adores. Oftentimes it's the other way around, but his compliments on his home make Louis giddy, a skip in his step as they return to the kitchen. 

When they discussed him coming over on the phone he’d mentioned wanting to go over some ideas for their arrangement, but Louis sees no binder or papers with him. He has Harry sit down while he gets them both a glass of water, trying to hide his compulsive nervous tendencies as he sits down across from him and takes a sip, gesturing for him to begin. 

“There are four basic ideas I’m going to ask you to remember,” Harry begins. “Honesty, patience, communication, and connection.” 

Louis nods in what he hopes is an obedient way, trying to clear his head of the other racing thoughts to make room for what Harry is going to tell him. That seems easy enough. 

Immediately Harry’s demeanor shifts slightly, but not too much. Not enough that he seems like a different person, like some of Louis’ past relationships, putting on a tough show because they thought for some reason that it was arousing. Harry just seems serious as he talks, genuine and slow as he eases Louis into familiar and yet completely new territory. 

“The first and most important thing is that you’re honest with me,” Harry says. “I am going to push your limits. There will be times when you’re uncomfortable. But if that lasts any longer than necessary or if you begin to feel trapped, scared, or in true pain, you have to promise that you’ll tell me.” 

“I understand,” Louis says. He’s pleased that he really does so far, that none of this goes over his head just yet. 

“And the same thing goes for me. If we start a scene and I don’t feel like we’re both getting everything out of it that we can, I will always let you know. That’s why the color system is so wonderful - it’s a quick and easy way to let each other know how we’re feeling. Just one word and we either keep going, slow down, or stop completely. In the event that you’re gagged or can’t speak for some reason, there will always be physical cues put in place that we discuss beforehand.” 

Louis’ brows raise yet again. He’s never heard of a dom coloring before, not even one that would consider it. But, when Harry explains it like that, it seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. 

“What if there’s something that  _ you _ like that I don’t like?” he asks. 

Taking a moment to consider his question, Harry inhales and looks off for a moment while he thinks. Louis appreciates the fact that he’s actually taking the time to do so. 

“I don’t think I could ever fully enjoy a scene if I knew that you were unhappy. We would stop, talk about what you specifically disliked, and try something different next time. A compromise is always reasonable.” 

“Okay,” Louis nods. He can work with that. He sits up a bit straighter and leans in so that Harry knows he’s ready for the next one. 

“Next is patience. As your dom there will be times when you’re uncertain and I need you to trust me. Most of the time I have a specific plan for you, for us, but it may not always happen in an instant,” he explains. “This idea goes both ways as well - patience means that you aren’t greedy or taking more than you can handle during a scene, but I also mean it more generally. We, as people, are going to have some things to work through, whether that’s trauma, insecurities from past relationships…” Harry trails off with a cloudy look in his own eyes, Louis shifting with his arms crossed protectively across his chest. “What’s important is that we don’t give up on each other. We’re both learning, and we can hopefully both grow in this relationship,” he finishes with a small smile. “The last two are connection and communication.” 

“Aren’t those the same thing?” Louis wonders. 

“Not quite,” Harry tells him, shaking his head. “Communication is like honesty; that trust that we have in each other to speak up when something isn’t right or we’re uncomfortable. It’s being able to have an open conversation with your partner about what you like and don’t like, what you want to try and what you’d  _ never _ try. It’s about having that open line of communication and being comfortable enough to utilize it.” 

“And connection?” Louis murmurs. He hasn’t realized it but he’s been subconsciously leaning closer as Harry continues to speak, actually intrigued at the tidbits he’s learning. 

Harry smiles gently when he notices the way Louis’ leaned forward with his chin in his hand, a curious glint in his eye. Louis blushes but doesn’t move away. 

“Connection is what I was trying to explain to you on that first day. I’m bringing this up as an example, okay? It isn’t to make you feel guilty. We’ve dealt with that situation and there are no negative feelings about it any longer,” he phrases, hesitating before he continues. 

“I understand,” Louis nods unsurely. 

“On that day when we first went up to your office, do you remember what I was wearing?” 

Freezing at the question, Louis rolls his lips together and tries to conjure up the image of Harry on that day. He’d been face down on the material of Harry’s trousers and yet he can’t even seem to visualize anything. When he’s quiet for a beat too long, Harry speaks up again. 

“You were wearing a suit. That navy blue one that you like, with a grey tie. You were nervous. Your voice cracked several times when you introduced me to your coworkers and your hands were shaking. You bit your lip so hard that it bled just a bit at the corners,” Harry’s eyes travel down to where he’s referring to. 

“I-” Louis fishmouths, unsure of what to say in response to that. 

“Again, this is not to make you feel guilty,” Harry reminds him. “But that’s what I’m trying to say. I was connected to you. In tune with your body language and the way you spoke enough to identify why you were acting the way you were. It can be difficult sometimes to find that connection,” he continues, “and sometimes we won’t. Sometimes we’ll have misunderstandings or we’ll fight with each other over petty things that don’t even really matter and we’ll close off. What  _ matters _ is that we’re always able to get that closeness back. If we can be in tune with each other,” Harry pauses, glancing pointedly down at where Louis’ picking at one of his fingernails and sliding a hand across the table to soothe him, “things will be much easier.” 

Harry runs his fingertips gently over the back of Louis’ hand as the seconds tick by and the information settles into his brain. 

“Which is why all of this comes full circle,” he adds. “If we aren’t connecting and we fight, the first thing I’ll do is have us sit down and talk about it. You’ll tell me how you’re feeling and I’ll tell you how I feel and we’ll be  _ honest _ and  _ communicate _ . And then, if it’s something a bit deeper than just surface level, we’ll have to be  _ patient _ while we work it out.” 

“You wouldn’t just - just punish me?” 

“I will never punish you without speaking to you first. And never without having your color and explaining what I’m going to do beforehand. You have my word on that, Louis.” 

Nodding slowly, Louis inhales for a few moments before exhaling again, thinking over all of the information. Nothing seems to be too difficult, and Harry’s ‘rules’, even in the beginning, were nothing like he thought they would be. 

Up until this point Louis thought maybe he was just being nice, putting up a comfortable front until he had Louis’ agreement and he could reveal all of his strict and unreasonable guidelines that Louis’ heard about in some relationships. 

But Harry’s transparent. Not once has he said something that contradicted any of his other promises or made Louis feel uncomfortable. Secretly he’s still waiting for the moment something like that happens, but with all the generosity he’s been awarded he figures it’s the least he can do to remain optimistic. 

“Did you have any other questions for  _ me, _ love?” Harry’s brow raises, his voice still gentle but a bit lighter now. 

“Uhm, what about the living situation?” Louis mumbles, picking at a fingernail again. 

“What about it?” Harry ventures. 

“Well, usually the - uhm,  _ I _ would move in with  _ you, _ but-” he trails off. He’s nervous again because he feels like there’s already been too much compromise, all slated in Louis’ direction. He gets to keep his job, so he feels like he should move in with Harry instead of the other way around. 

“Louis,” Harry begins slowly, “I meant it when I said I’m not going to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I do think we should live together so we can see how our schedules and lifestyles sync up, but I have no issue doing it the other way around.” 

“Really?” Louis sits up straighter, unable to help the excited lilt to his tone. “You’d move in with me?” 

“Of course I would,” Harry smiles, eyes twinkling under the chandelier. “You’re comfortable here, yes?” 

“Very,” Louis breathes. 

“Then it’s settled. Whenever you’d like me to move in I will,” Harry grins at him. 

“I - thank you,” he says, genuinely shocked at how lucky he’s gotten. Somehow, Harry’s managed to prove him wrong - in a  _ wonderful _ way - at every step of the process. 

Harry stands from the table as Louis still struggles to shut his mouth, rounding the corner to get to him. He pulls out the chair beside Louis and sits again, arms extended like they’d been at the restaurant. Louis accepts the hug eagerly as Harry runs a hand over the back of his head. 

“You don’t need to thank me for that, love. I’m trying to make this as easy as possible for you.” 

“You are,” Louis murmurs into his shoulder. 

Everytime Louis thinks the weight has finally been lifted off of his shoulders, there’s always more that seems to come off when he’s with Harry. Years of hardened opinions on what a dom or sub should be simply because of the ideas that were shoved down his throat, of biased beliefs because of his fear of loneliness and a few too many pushy doms in the past. 

He feels lighter than he ever has in his life, and for once that doesn’t scare him. 

“You are,” he repeats into his shirt, rubbing his cheek along the soft fabric. 

Harry only holds him tighter, pulls him closer, and exhales. 

+

The week before Harry moves in, Louis tries to make sure the house will be ready for the changes. He figures it's far past time to clean out some things and organize, to throw out some old and make room for the new. 

Most of it goes amazingly well. He makes it through his bedroom, bathroom, and his closet with no issue, and the living room doesn’t even need much rearranging. When he reaches the other end of the house though, his momentum wavers. 

The room on the far end of the corridor haunts him again. He stands in the doorway and stares hard at it, more closely than usual, trying to picture himself using it. 

These kinds of rooms are fairly common now, although each of them look very different in size, color, and what goes inside of them. Sometimes it’s just a bed, sometimes it looks like a scene out of a sleazy film, and sometimes it's left completely empty. Louis’ is somewhere in between. 

He was much more confident in himself when he had it customized, sleek black storage drawers lining the far walls he wanted to fill with things he’d get to use with his partner - with his dom. The carpet is the best money could buy at the time, fluffy and plush so that if he ever had to be on his knees it wouldn’t hurt him too badly. Every detail from the silk linen to the specially-sized restraints hooked on the bed posts was custom. 

Louis knows he won’t be able to keep this room a secret from Harry forever. It’s not too far off of the main hall and if he turns the guest bedroom into Harry’s office like he’s been thinking, then he’ll have to pass by it every day. There’s no way he can just forbid him from going in either, though he knows Harry would still respect that. 

So he’s just going to have to get over himself. It’s just a room, he reasons. He just has to actually - walk into it, is all. That can’t be too difficult. 

Except that’s exactly what he’s trying to do  _ now _ and it isn’t working. Louis shakes his head, blows out a breath and loosens his limbs in preparation. It’s just a room. It can’t hurt him.  _ Well… _ Louis cuts off that train of thought. 

All of the worrying is stressing him out even more than before, making his breathing pick up and his heart race. On a whim he squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists, and then promptly walks forward into the center of the room. 

For a moment he’s suspended there. Louis can feel the way the temperature changes from the coolness of the hallway, the air still in here from the doors being shut all the time. His shoes sink into the foamy flooring underneath the carpet and his leg brushes a velvet settee left out of place from moving. For just those few seconds, it feels like floating. 

Then he opens his eyes, takes a look around, forces a deep breath, and stumbles back out the door so fast that he nearly falls. 

Not quite yet, then. He’ll try again another time. 

+

Surprisingly, living with Harry isn’t all that different than living by himself, only without the loneliness. 

He’s up early in the morning to cook them both breakfast as Louis gets dressed (he was appalled after finding out that Louis typically skipped the meal altogether) and he’s an amazing chef. Their schedules fit well together too, which is something else Louis was slightly worried about. They work roughly the same hours, so by the time they each make it home for work it’s time for dinner, relaxation, and bed. 

At night it isn’t awkward either, and Harry’s as respectful in his cuddling as he is in everything else. Louis’ missed the feeling of sleeping next to someone. 

By the time a full week rolls around, Harry suggests that they have a check-in after dinner on Friday night to see how things are going, which makes Louis a bit more anxious than he thinks it should. He knows logically that things are going wonderfully, but he can’t help that nagging guilt that he’s all too familiar with. He knows  _ he’s _ happy, but is Harry? 

Pushing it to the back of his mind, he makes it through work on Friday fairly unscathed and only stays an hour after when he’s due to leave, concealing his procrastination with more paperwork. When the sun starts to go down he decides he can’t fake it any longer, and he slides on his jacket and heads back to the penthouse. 

Dinner is delicious as it usually is when Harry cooks now. It just almost distracts him from their conversation, until Harry clears their plates and pours them each a glass of wine, sitting back down across from him at the table. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Louis clears his throat. 

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he assures, reading Louis’ expression like an open book. “I just want to check in with you about a few things - some ideas I had.” 

“Alright,” Louis nods hesitantly. 

Harry picks up his glass and takes a short sip, which Louis promptly copies so he’ll have something to do with his hands while he waits for Harry to begin. 

“I think we work really well together,” he notes, swallowing his wine, “everything so far has been lovely, and I’ve really enjoyed living here with you. Are you happy with the situation so far?” 

“I’ve really enjoyed it too,” Louis says, but something in Harry’s eyes is a bit off, and Louis hesitates. “Are you… not happy with it? Is there something wrong?” 

“No, no, I think things are going wonderful so far,” he rushes. “I was just going to suggest delving a bit deeper into our roles, if that’s something you’d be interested in at this point.” 

“What did you have in mind?” Louis asks, only halfway sure he’s ready to hear the answer. 

“Well, to start off,” Harry murmurs thoughtfully, “I think you should kneel for me when you get home from work.” 

“Kneel?” Louis stutters, an eyebrow raised as his cheeks  flush . 

It’s a fairly common activity but most of the time it’s only executed with pairings that are already very comfortable with each other, that know their limits and have explored more of their relationship first. Kneeling for Harry doesn’t sound bad at all, but it does seem kind of  _ fast _ . 

“Yes, kneeling. I know it seems a bit heavy but I think it would be a great way to establish the transfer of control.” When Louis still looks confused, Harry smiles softly at him and continues, “You’re CEO of your company, Louis. You spend most of your day in boss mode, giving orders and delegating - and you do that  _ wonderfully _ . But I’ve also seen you after you leave, how you tend to carry around your work even when you’re no longer at the office.”

His mouth opens to argue, but he can’t even really come up with anything to say. Louis  _ does _ often have trouble not bringing work home with him, sometimes pulling an occasional all-nighter as well. It throws off his sleep schedules and makes him irritable when he arrives the next day, affecting all of his meetings and interviews. For years he’s been trying to balance it all, but he can never quite seem to figure out how. 

Harry paused for a moment to let him think it over, but he swallows his sip of wine and continues. “Kneeling would be a good way to get all of that off of your shoulders. You get to come home and hand it all over to me. I think it’s doubly effective, really. It will enforce our roles and you’ll be able to find that balance between the office and at home.” 

“Okay,” Louis says slowly. “We can - we can try it.” 

“Of course, Louis. We’ll always make sure it’s something you’re okay with before we make it a regular thing. I promise,” he smiles, and Louis mirrors it in his own expression. 

“Wait, what would you like me to call you? Like, in a scene, I mean. Just Harry?” 

Harry’s lips purse and he tilts his head back as he thinks for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind it, but I think we should come up with a different name for when we’re in a scene. It’ll help to separate your headspaces and make things much less confusing.” 

“Sir?” Louis offers. 

“Sometimes,” Harry nods. “But I’ve found that personally that feels a bit impersonal to me when we aren’t in an intense scene. That and ‘Master’ will be reserved for those times.” 

Louis hums, thinking about what he could call Harry. He runs his eyes over his frame, his jaw and his shoulders and his chest. Still, nothing seems to come to mind immediately. 

He leaves him to put up the leftovers as the conversation dwindles and walks over to the counter behind him to sift through the mail Harry brought up a bit earlier, separating them by who they’re addressed to. Laying his own name in his pile, he sets Harry’s off to the side, a giddy kick in his chest at seeing  _ Styles _ on the mail that’s being delivered to his flat. 

The last piece of mail is Harry’s and it has his last name as well, but this time it seems more formal. Instead of Harry S. or Harry Styles, it reads a simple: H. Styles. Louis’ heartbeat falters again, his lip caught between his teeth. 

And then it hits him. 

“Harry,” he gasps, spinning on his heel to face him in the kitchen. “I thought of a name.” 

“You did? What is it?” Harry asks, balancing the mixing bowl on his hip as he steps closer to him. 

Louis can already picture calling him that way, can see it fall off his lips as a plea or a curse or a confirmation. He doesn’t know why it gets to him so much but it absolutely does, the idea already making his long-since touched prick perk up in his trousers. It isn’t common, but it feels like it fits perfectly. Unique, just like them. 

He meets Harry’s curious eye and releases his own lip, his mouth parting around the syllables as it comes out breathy and sure. 

“H.” 

+

So it becomes a thing - both the name and the kneeling. Each day when he gets home from work he kneels for a few minutes, and then he learns something else before they eat dinner and relax for the rest of the night. He’d gone to school for all of it years before, but it’s all hazy in his head now, and years of bad relationships with doms with far too big an ego and far too small an everything-else have seemed to knock some of it from his head. 

Louis can’t even deny the changes he’s seen take place just over the past week. He gets almost giddy at the end of the work day, excited to go home and forget about all of it until tomorrow. He’s been going to bed earlier instead of hunched over his laptop until four in the morning, waking up well rested and ready to take on the day. 

It’s amazing, but Louis can still feel that sharp undercurrent of apprehension humming in his veins. Harry may know his stuff when it comes to this, but booksmart doesn’t necessarily mean anything when it comes to true romance. He’s anxious to get to that part of him as well, to see if he really is the full package like his paperwork so clearly suggested. 

On Louis’ end, he’s already begun to think so. He’s smitten right now, blushing and nervous and stumbling over his words each time he sees Harry. It’s just - his brain kind of goes  _ that’s my dominant _ over and over again until his brain is a pile of mush, a dopey grin on his face and a skip in his heartbeat. Harry is  _ his _ dominant, and he’s got no idea how he got so lucky. 

But, as of right now, that’s  _ all _ Harry is. And Louis knows he should just be grateful to have been matched at all, but there’s still an ache in his chest for something more. Louis’ feeling all of the things he thinks he should, but he can’t ever tell if Harry is. 

On the outside, Harry’s always frustratingly calm. He’s level headed and firm but also so gentle with him, and Louis would die to know what goes on inside of his head. The only time he’s seen him truly upset was early on in Louis’ office, but even that’d been muted for his benefit. 

It’s all very confusing because Louis’ older than him, but it absolutely doesn’t feel that way. It feels like Harry’s the most popular guy in school and Louis is the nerd with the crush on him, doodling his name on his papers and daydreaming when there’s something else he should be paying attention to, like, say, his entire  _ company _ . 

Louis’ pretty sure they’re getting somewhere, though. Harry’s lessons often require them to get pretty  _ close _ to each other, and more often than not he can tell that Harry’s just as affected as he is. 

Which is why he’s made it his mission to find out for sure. Now that he’s slightly more comfortable around him, Louis feels like he can relax some more. Not a ton, just enough to experiment a little on his own, something he never got to do before with anyone else. 

Pulling into his parking spot, there’s a skip in his step when he boards the lift, anxious butterflies in his gut to see what they’re going to learn today. 

“I’m home,” he calls into the entryway, setting his bag and jacket down near the door. 

That’s another thing he does now, or rather  _ doesn’t _ do. Louis used to bring home stacks of thick work to sift through and organize, certain to keep him busy late into the night if he hadn’t just decided to stay at the office anyway. 

Now he has a separation between the two. At work he’s Louis Tomlinson, CEO and all around successful businessman. And here, at home, well-

Louis rolls his shoulders backward as he drops to his knees on the plush front carpet, his eyes falling shut and his breathing beginning to calm. Usually Harry’s already cooking at this point but Louis knows he had an online appointment that should have ended only fifteen minutes prior. He shivers slightly when he hears the second study doors open, footsteps echoing down the corridor until they reach the open living room. 

He can’t help the smile when a hand appears on the back of his head, firm and gentle. 

“Welcome home, love,” Harry murmurs, “how was your day?” 

“Good. Got a lot done,” Louis mumbles into the material of Harry’s trousers. 

“Yeah? That’s wonderful, Lou. I didn’t even have to go into the office today but I got a lot done too, lots of people are switching to online sessions.” 

“That’s good,” Louis returns. “M’glad you got your home office all set up here now.” 

“Thanks to you,” Harry grins, petting down the side of Louis’ neck. 

He guesses he is allowed to take at least partial credit for that - they’d completely redone one of the guest bedrooms to make it a workspace for Harry, since Louis already had a home office. As a surprise, Louis designed it for him and had it put together just before he moved in. All Harry had to do was add a few of his own personal touches, and Louis thinks it looks amazing. He smiles again at the praise. 

“Alright, up you get,” he urges Louis after the five minutes. “Are you ready for the lesson? You’re comfortable?” 

After helping him take off his shoes and loosen his tie, Harry leads him into the middle of the living room. Sometimes it feels like five minutes is much too short, but it’s always just the right amount to take away his stress but not make his knees ache with it, so he can’t complain. He stops where Harry tells him and waits for instruction. 

“We’re going to learn poses today. I’m going to ask you to memorize these if you can, but we’ll practice them repeatedly so don’t panic if you don’t master them right away,” Harry explains. “These will make things much easier during scenes or when we need to be quick. Having them memorized can save us a lot of time and unnecessary confusion.” 

“I understand,” Louis nods. 

“There are a lot of them but I’m only going to ask you to remember a few, alright? We’ll do the standing poses first,” he says. “The first one is called  _ ‘inspection’ _ . Have you heard of it?” 

“I - maybe, back when we studied them in school,” Louis admits guiltily. “Sorry, it’s been a while.” 

“That’s alright,” Harry murmurs, guiding him further into the middle of the room. “It’s fairly easy. You’re just going to stand up and spread your legs about a shoulder width apart.” 

“Okay,” Louis nods, making sure the soles of his feet are spread the right amount. 

“Now you’re going to place your hands behind your head like this,” Harry shows him. 

Mirroring his position, Louis raises his arms and rests one hand over the other on the back of his head. “Is this it?” 

“That’s it,” Harry smiles, arms lowering. “Perfect. Are you ready for the next one?” 

Grinning, Louis lets his hands drop to his sides and waits for the next instruction. He’d been expecting a lot more than just the simple pose Harry suggested, and he wonders if the next ones will be more difficult or not. Either way, he’s already getting a rush from just the praise of getting it correct. 

Harry leads him over to the wall for this one, putting his hands on Louis’ waist to turn him to face it. “Alright, legs apart just like last time - just like that. Now, raise your hands above your head like this,” he says, lifting one of Louis’ wrists to pull it upward. 

He directs him until Louis has one wrist crossed over the other pressed against the wall, his legs apart and forehead against his arms. He’s fully clothed, but the weight of Harry’s gaze is already beginning to get heavier. He clears his throat and nods at Louis, who can’t help the way his back arches just a bit more under the inspection. 

“That’s - that one is called  _ ‘wall’ _ . Very good.” 

“Which one is next?” Louis breathes. 

Huffing a small laugh, Harry grins and pulls him back over to the carpet. “You’re familiar with kneeling, but we’re going to add some elements to that. This one is called  _ ‘collar’ _ . Are you ready?” 

At Louis’ eager agreement, Harry has him kneel like usual. Then he circles behind him and pulls his hands up until they’re in the same place as they were with the inspection pose, his hands behind his head. He bares his neck just a bit as Harry comes back in front of him, nudging his knees apart with his shoes. 

“Just like that,” he says under his breath. 

He leans forward to swipe the hair from where it’s fallen into Louis’ vision but his touch lingers, falling down Louis’ cheek and then, just barely, ghosting over his neck. Louis’ eyes flutter shut picturing the day when there’ll actually be a  _ collar _ there. 

“Just two more,” Harry says, knocking him out of his trance but looking affected himself. 

“I’m ready,” Louis manages. 

“This one is called  _ ‘nadu’ _ . It is the most similar to what you usually do,” he explains, crossing his arms over his chest over a heavy exhale. Louis accidentally glances at the growing bulge in the front of his trousers and then promptly looks away with a blush. “You will have seen this one, I’m sure. Kneel like normal for me, there you go, and spread your legs a bit wider. Now take your hands and rest them palm-up on your thighs. And then tilt your neck down. There you have it,” Harry rasps. 

The other poses felt submissive enough but Louis doesn’t think anything will ever compare to this one. There’s something about it that gets to him, that makes his body feel so much lighter immediately after he assumes the position. 

It sends his head the slightest bit fuzzy around the edges, his eyelashes feeling heavier when he blinks. It feels  _ safe _ . Small. 

“How does it feel?” Harry asks him, his  voice much lower than usual, probably sensing that Louis’ retreated somewhere inside of his head. 

The sound of it startles Louis from his thoughts, the question feeling decidedly  _ intimate _ . He licks over his lips and keeps his eyes on Harry’s shoes as he answers. 

“It feels good, H.” 

A hand runs over the back of his bowed head and his neck and makes him shiver. One of these days he knows Harry won’t stop. His hands will feel every last inch of him and Louis can’t wait for it. Unless Harry asks him to, of course. 

“Good,” he murmurs above Louis’ head. “One more. You think you can handle it?” 

“Yes, H.” 

There’s a pause and a long sigh before Harry grips him by the back of the neck and makes him look up, rubbing soothing circles into his skin as he speaks. 

“I need you to get on all fours for me,” he says. 

Louis scrambles to obey, albeit reluctant for Harry’s touch to leave him. He pushes off of his ankles that’d been carrying his weight and shifts forward onto his hands, anticipation coiling in his tummy. 

“Good boy,” Harry tells him. “Legs apart. Now, I want you to slide your hands outward until your shoulders are flat against the floor.” 

Trying to keep his breathing even, Louis runs his hands over the pieces of the soft carpet, feeling it underneath his fingertips and under his palm. He doesn’t stop until they’re as far as he can reach, his armpits now touching the ground as the muscles in his neck and shoulders begin to smart at him. 

“Cross your hands and drop your head.” 

Laying one wrist over the other, Louis lets his head fall limply in between his shoulder blades, his vision reduced down to the carpet tickling his nose. With his arse in the air and his face to the floor, Louis knows why Harry saved this pose for last. 

It’s undeniable the way that he’s so clearly  _ presenting _ for him, almost like a blindfold has been placed over his eyes. He can’t see Harry but all of his other senses seem to heighten, the sound of his boots moving on the carpet and the subtlety of his body heat on one side. 

Louis swears he hears a single, muttered curse. He buries his delighted giggle into the carpet. 

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Harry says, voice strained. Helping Louis up from the carpet and steadies him into his chest, walking him the few steps over to the sofa and gesturing for him to sit. Louis resists the urge to pull him back by the hand when he leaves for a moment. 

While he’s alone, he takes the time to assess how he feels. Beside the spanking he’d received early on, this is sort of the farthest they’ve gotten in terms of a true scene. Kneeling is intimate and Louis’ come to love it over the past few weeks, but these positions had been a different feeling entirely. He can’t wait to see the pride on his face when Harry asks him to assume one of them and Louis will rush to arrange himself accordingly, in a perfect, memorized position. 

And - that’s it, really. Louis doesn’t feel odd or uncomfortable, only satisfaction with himself for getting them right.  _ Pride. _ It’s been quite a long time since a dominant’s made him feel like that. 

“Drink,” Harry says, handing him a cool water bottle as he returns from the kitchen. He sits down beside Louis on the sofa and pulls him into his lap sideways, pressing his lips into Louis’ temple. “You’ve done wonderfully.” 

Chilled water from the fridge runs down his dry throat, and Louis can feel the contrast as it makes its way through his heated body and into his stomach. He curls into Harry’s chest and then pauses, pulling back to look him in the eye as his earlier goal returns to his mind. 

“Harry?” he murmurs. 

Blinking down at him, Harry smiles lightly and hums in response to his question. “Hm?” 

“When are we - I mean, could we maybe…” 

This argument is one he’s had in his head for a bit now. He’s torn between wanting to ask for more because he knows this whole thing is going so,  _ so _ well, but he can’t help it, not when Harry looks and acts like he does, all handsome and kind and such a good match. He’d told Louis that one of the cornerstones of this is honesty and another communication, so Louis feels like this is okay. He takes a deep breath and tries again, but Harry’s as patient as ever. 

“I think I’m ready for, like… more,” he whispers. 

“More?” Harry tilts his head, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Like, uhm, kissing?” Louis chews on his lower lip as he fidgets. “And - and maybe other stuff too,” he adds quietly. 

Harry’s soft chuckle makes him feel less embarrassed, a glow of warm happiness on his features as well. “Of course we can do that,” he says. “I was only waiting because I didn’t want to overwhelm you at first. I know it’s been quite a lifestyle change for you so I wanted to give you some time to adjust to what it’s going to be like before we actually, y’know, get to it.” 

His hand moves from where it’d been resting on top of Louis’ thigh and raises to graze over his arm, leaving goosebumps behind as Louis gasps at the change in position. Then his fingers reach Louis’ face, holding his cheek and running a thumb over the seam of his lips. 

“But I very much appreciate you being so honest with me and asking for what you want,” he breathes, even closer now, “and I’d be more than happy to give it to you.” 

“Now?” Louis chokes. 

“Now,” Harry confirms, grinning, “if you’d like. Just say the word.” 

“The word,” Louis repeats dumbly, and then he’s leaning forward before either of them can change their mind, tasting Harry’s laugh with his tongue. 

He feels a little stupid for being so worked up over a kiss, but the buildup has been  _ ridiculous -  _ having to stare at Harry’s lips for so long without being able to kiss them properly or have them other places on his body. Besides all of that, Louis’ past partners weren’t the biggest fans of kissing either when there was more to be offered, and he rarely took the time to appreciate the simple act. 

Whether it’s because they just practiced positions or he’s just feeling particularly in the mood, Louis feels everything tenfold. The hand on his cheek burns and sizzles, Harry’s touch both familiar and brand new. 

With their mouths pressed so closely together, slow and first and then harder, faster, Louis’ tongue is still cool from the water as it presses intimately against Harry’s. The contrast has his closed eyes rolling back into his head. 

It feels amazing also because it’s proof - that he isn’t just a patient or a student. Harry’s obviously just as affected by him as Louis is the other way around, evident both now and earlier when he’d been so pleased with Louis’ quick learning in positions. 

Despite all of this, Louis doesn’t feel like he’s got to earn anything. He isn’t straining or desperate, hands fisted in the material of Harry’s shirt to keep him close. Instead he’s calm, relaxed as Harry kisses him, the small, safe feeling from earlier trailing into this moment as well. 

It still feels too short when Harry parts from him, caught in slow motion as both of their eyes flicker open again, soft lashes on cheekbones and spit-slick lips rolling together. Harry kisses him once more, then pulls away a bit. 

“Alright?” he checks, nosing at the side of Louis’ face. 

“Perfect,” Louis breathes. “Thanks.” 

Chuckling again at his reaction, Harry swings Louis’ pliant neck in his direction and kisses him again like he can’t get enough. 

“So that was the kissing,” he teases. “We can get to the ‘other stuff’ later, I s’pose.” 

“Gonna hold you to that,” Louis murmurs, burrowing into the space between Harry’s shoulder and neck. 

Hazily, he registers being lifted off of the sofa and taken to the bedroom, because the next thing he knows he’s on soft linen, a pillow situated under his head. It isn’t time for bed yet but he could use a nap, suddenly tired for a reason he can’t exactly pinpoint, and this time he does grab onto Harry’s fingers until he climbs in beside him. 

“No need,” Harry whispers, responding to Louis’ earlier statement. He manages one last kiss before Louis’ breathing starts to even out, soft and private in the privacy of their bedroom. “I’ll remember.” 

\+ 

Once Harry’s asleep, Louis crawls as quietly as possible out of the bed and tiptoes down the stairs one at a time. Everything is quiet and dark and he isn’t sure if that makes this better or worse. 

Now that Harry’s officially moved in, it’s getting progressively more difficult to hide the room at the end of the hall from him. It’s right near his office and Louis can tell he wants to ask about it but he doesn’t. Which would be wonderful, if Louis didn’t feel so guilty about it. 

Every time they have a lesson or practice posing, they’re forced to do so in the living room. Harry has a philosophy about doing stricter scenes in the bedroom because he says it should be purely for rest and relaxation, separate from the rest of their dynamic.  _ When we’re in there, it’s just you and me, _ he’d said.  _ No dominants or submissives, just people. Us.  _ Louis waited until he was alone that day to properly swoon. 

But he knows that Harry, despite his gentle nature, is ultimately a dominant. There are times when he gets just as stressed as Louis and he needs an outlet, and Louis doesn’t want him to feel like he always needs to be treated like he’s breakable. He deserves to have an area where he can be totally himself - and maybe Louis deserves that too. 

So he’s made up his mind. It’s time to dust things off, get rid of his pent up anxiousness, and stop keeping that damn door at the end of the hallway shut. 

How exactly he’s going to do that he isn’t sure, but he’s going to try. 

As quietly as he can he makes it past the kitchen and dining room and to the ominous double doors, inhaling deeply to center himself before he pulls them open. 

Once the light right inside the door is flicked on, the wall sconces flicker to life, casting a warm outline over all of the furniture. It looks, dare he say, a bit cozy at this time of night. And yet still somehow terrifying. 

At least Louis knows it’s all in his head. Though the items here can be used negatively, he knows they won’t be. Already he trusts Harry not to use them that way, to pleasure and relax and not to hurt. 

With that thought in mind, he refocuses and wills himself to cooperate. If he can do this, it could unlock an entirely new area of their relationship. Louis doesn’t want to be greedy, but he’s excited to see how much better things can get after already being so good. This might just be the key to that, and it would certainly show Harry that he trusts him, and erase any lingering guilt from how Louis treated him when they first met. 

He tries to repeat what he did last time as he shuts his eyes and just walks forward, only stopping briefly to shut the doors behind him before going further in. He feels the temperature change again, and the carpet feels entirely different on his bare feet. Louis digs his toes into it to feel the softness, letting it coax him into opening his eyes. 

The urge to run out again is there but it doesn’t overpower him like last time. Part of that may just be his tiredness, but he’s willing to take it right now if it means getting this off of his mind. 

Facing the wall in front of him, Louis takes it in small doses. Everything is so minimal that his eyes jump from one corner to another, though he forces them to go slowly. 

For what he estimates is at least half an hour, he simply familiarizes himself with the space again. He notes what drawers hold which objects and where the extra linen is stored, where the light glows the brightest and darkest. Then, when he feels comfortable, he heads into the connected bathroom to grab a rag so he can start cleaning. 

Louis powers through even as his hands shake slightly when he lowers the cloth to the dusty furniture, wiping it away to make room for new memories. He runs his hands over the furniture and the bed, shivering as he wonders what Harry’s reaction will be. 

One of the many things Louis was scared of during this entire process was that he’d be pressured. That the second he signed the papers and actually had a dom, they’d hang that over his head and use it to make him do whatever it is they wanted that day. 

Since then, Louis’ come to realize that there is good pushing as well. As in having someone that makes him want to be better, to make changes that he was always capable of but was too comfortable to ever stray out of his comfort zone and do them. 

This is a push he needed. It isn’t pressure or anything forceful, and it’s still  _ him _ making this decision. This is good. 

By the time an hour passes, the exhaustion from being up in the middle of the night has caught up with him. Nearly the entire room has been cleaned though, and he’s strangely proud of this unexpected accomplishment. He starts to wake up Harry to show him, then pauses. 

Maybe he’s not ready to share it with Harry just yet, but this is definitely a start. In small, brief flickers he can feel the same excitement from years ago bubbling back up under the surface, nervous butterflies swarming in his tummy. He shuts the doors again and heads back to bed where he can hear Harry’s light snores from the hallway. Soon, he decides. He can feel it - soon he’ll let Harry in there with him. 

This time when he thinks about it, he smiles. 

+

“It’s punishment and reward,” Harry explains. “It’s all in the role-building. Doing these activities increases that drive that you have to serve. We won’t do them too often because I don’t want to make you feel like it should be like this all the time, but it can be healthy sometimes to do these exercises.” 

When Louis woke up this morning he had no idea that he’d be on all fours again, in the very middle of his living room carpet, his head only mere inches away from Harry’s lap. He’s shirtless too, and already a bit too excited if he’s being honest. 

This isn’t supposed to be anything sexual, but Louis can’t help the way he shivers and salivates at the sound of Harry’s instruction, at the idea of taking things further than they have before. Louis tries for sultry and looks up at him from the ground, murmuring his assent. 

“You keep the ice from falling until it melts and you get a reward. You let it slip before it’s melted and you’ll get a punishment,” he says. “Are you comfortable?” 

“My back hurts just a bit, but not too bad,” Louis notes, shifting on his limbs experimentally. “I’m good, H.” 

Harry’s mouth drifts into a frown, his eyes running the length of Louis’ spine. He runs a hand down where his gaze just passed, rubbing softly at the skin in question as if to soothe it. “Alright,” he agrees reluctantly, “but you’ll tell me if it gets worse, yes? If you don’t like something, we won’t do it anymore.” 

Without being able to help himself, Louis’ brows raise, another question coming to mind for the future that he hadn’t gotten to ask before. 

“Just like that?” Louis asks. “You won’t make me try it again to make sure?” 

“Louis, if you tell me that you dislike something I’m not going to question you or make you prove it to me,” he says. Louis’ shoulders relax a bit at his answer, then straighten again to hold the position. “On the other hand, you might not like something, but you might not dislike it either. Those will be the scenes we re-try, since most of this is learned behavior anyway.” 

Louis’ brain scrambles to remember what he’s heard of learned behavior from school, but he comes up empty. In any other situation he may have been embarrassed, but Harry hasn’t ever made him feel guilty about asking any questions. 

“Learned behavior?” 

“Mhm,” Harry hums, stroking a hand down the back of his neck until he shivers. “For example, if I do this,” he taps Louis’ shoulder twice, “right before I kiss you every time, you’ll learn to associate the two things. Every time I tap you you’d learn to expect a kiss. Does that make sense?” 

“Yes, H,” Louis sighs quietly. His eyes are half-lidded already, satisfied with the knowledge he’s accumulated and the fact that he’s pleasing Harry along the way. He always feels so safe here. 

“I’m going to put it on now, alright?” 

At Louis’ nod he leans forward and dumps a single ice cube from his chilled glass, winking at Louis as he places it right on the base of his spine. 

It’s freezing cold  _ (obviously) _ and yet his body betrays him anyway, immediately trying to get away from the touch. He manages to right himself just before the ice cube drops to the carpet, biting his lip as he catches Harry’s eye again. 

The grin he gets in return makes him feel warm all over again. 

He used to think that scenes had to be serious - no laughter, no smiling, no lightheartedness or playful banter. It always seemed to make everything more intimidating. But technically this is a scene right now, and Harry’s not acting stoic or impersonal, not scolding him for the littlest things. Even when Louis nearly dropped the ice cube right off, he hadn’t reprimanded him in any way. 

It’s fun. Doing scenes with Harry and experimenting is  _ fun, _ which is something he never once thought he’d be able to say. Louis nearly chuckles when he thinks about how foolish he was in the beginning. 

When he first met Harry he’d been trying to fill up the empty, dark vacancy in his life with anything that would fit. He’d been desperate and hurried and nervous for his own wellbeing. He can still remember the restlessness he felt, how he was convinced he was walking around successful, but without any real purpose. 

Hissing with a gasp, Louis goes rigid again when the ice begins to melt, a stream of cold water making its way up the notches of his spine as he arches his back. When he looks up again Harry’s got this proud look on his face, but also one that says he knew Louis could do it all along. He’s not letting that damn ice fall. 

He isn’t that nervous boy he was before. For years Louis tried to date older men so he could feel small and cared for and it failed every single time. He’d nearly given up altogether. 

As it turns out, that wasn’t even the factor that mattered. Harry’s ages ahead of them everywhere it counts - in maturity, in intelligence, in respect and romance. He’s checked every box, made Louis feel everything he’s been dreaming about, been chasing since he was a teenager. He was able to revive Louis’ formerly dead dream of a successful -  _ happy _ \- D/S relationship. He knows the system has its issues, but it seems it led Louis right to his soulmate. 

The sappy thought throws him a bit off guard and he sways, hurrying to lower the front half of his body so that what’s left of the ice will remain in the dimples of his lower back. When it returns there, slick and still cool, Louis sighs gratefully. 

“You look lovely like this, you know,” Harry says, reaching forward to stroke a finger over his cheek. 

A fingertip trails over Louis’ lips and he kisses it, accepting the praise with a familiar blush. “Thanks, H,” he whispers. 

The ice is nearly gone now, most of it just water sitting idly on top of his curves. Still, he doesn’t allow himself to celebrate too early, shifting very carefully to ease the pressure on his knees so he can hold the position just a bit longer. 

“You’re doing so well, almost finished now.” Harry doesn’t stop with his compliments, and Louis’ convinced it might be a ploy to see if he’ll move because of the way he fidgets under the attention. Either way he plans to accept it simply because it makes him feel good, unable to stop the smile that he muffles into Harry’s knee, pushing his head up into his hand. 

Just a little push forward and he’d be right between Harry’s legs, able to get a hand on his zipper and get him out of his trousers. A few more inches and he’d be able to put his mouth on him too, to finally see what he tastes like, how he sounds, the face he makes when he- 

Drops of water slide off of Louis’ back to the carpet beneath him. The ice is fully melted - he’s done it. 

“Good boy,” Harry rushes, hurrying to grab the hand towel he’d set out to dry Louis’ back so his trousers won’t get wet when he stands. “C’mere.” 

Taking Harry’s hand, Louis stretches his muscles as he stands again. He can’t even help himself when he giggles happily and reaches up on his tiptoes, sliding a hand into Harry’s hair to pull him down for a kiss. 

Their teeth clash for a moment since both of them are smiling, but soon enough it’s just as easy as the first time they’d done it, like a collective sigh. The rag drops to the ground between them as Harry’s arms wind around his waist. 

“I did it,” Louis pants, parting from him on an exhale. 

“You did it,” Harry confirms, a dopey, sideways grin on his face like he’s just as excited about something that seems so insignificant. “I’m proud of you.” 

The small act isn’t one that should make him feel so oddly happy, but it does and he feels too good to question it. It’s nice to have the accomplishment, small or otherwise, under his belt. It’s something submissive but it makes him feel confident, even more eager for what else he’s got planned for them in the future. 

“Thank you, Harry,” he says, kissing him again. 

A short time ago, Louis would never have believed that he’d be here. Living with a dominant,  _ his _ dominant, without doing something to run them off. Doing exercises that make him feel good and learning new things about himself every day with a man who’s just as eager to simply learn about him in return. 

There are still things Louis does alone. He goes to work and has his own side of life where he gets to enjoy those accomplishments and strive for the things he wants. 

But then he gets to come home and have the flip side of all of that too, to give into what his body needs for once without fighting it. This,  _ this _ is the balance he’d been missing. 

Sometimes Louis gets tired after scenes, but today is not one of those days. Right now he still feels full of infectious energy, the night still young outside the window. He tugs on Harry’s sleeve and walks them to the door, tugging his shoes back on and shoving Harry’s coat toward him. 

“Where are we going?” he asks fondly. 

“I want ice cream,” Louis offers. “We can go to that place downtown and then drive by all the lights they hung up near the shops. Oh, and we can see if that new italian place is open yet!” 

Harry slides his arms into his jacket, a warm laugh tugging at the corners of his mouth as he presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek. 

“Is that okay?” Louis asks, suddenly feeling like he might’ve come on too strong. 

“That sounds wonderful,” Harry murmurs against him. “Although, I’d suggest that you put a shirt back on before we leave. It’s still pretty cold outside, you know.” 

Blushing all over again, Louis gawks at himself when he looks down and realizes that he is, in fact, still very much shirtless. He rushes over to the sofa to put it back on, then slides his own arms into his jacket that Harry holds up for him, his eyes still fond. 

“What would you do without me?” he jokes. 

“I’d be very, very lost,” Louis says. And then he leans up and kisses him one last time before they leave, simply because he can. 

+

Since Harry’s moved in, Louis’ been spending much less time at the office. That means that the time he does spend there he usually tries to make the most of. It’s made him realize several things. 

First, Niall is a lifesaver. He brings Louis caffeine approximately twice a day (and sometimes  _ thrice _ ) and lets Louis vent to him when he needs to complain, and vice versa, though Niall’s job isn’t all that exciting. He’s always been a friend, but just recently Louis’ taken the extra time to get to know him better. 

Secondly, he really enjoys Blake and Leo’s company. Blake always stops to say hello when he uses the copier and when Leo visits he makes sure to drop by Louis’ office as well to chat for a bit before he leaves, planning more dinners for the four of them in the future. 

And then, on his breaks, he calls Harry and they talk while he’s on lunch and doesn’t have any appointments. Louis wishes he could actually go see him, but just hearing his voice really helps inspire him to keep working hard so he can leave everything at the office and head home right at five. 

The last thing he realized is that he  _ really _ dislikes Michael and Jake. Before he was so scattered that their teasing was something he just did his best to ignore, but now that everything else in his life is going so well, they’re sticking out like a sore thumb. 

Louis used to put up with it, but he has a newfound sense of respect for himself now. Their jokes are really just mean, and he’s had about enough of them. 

They’re just as obnoxious today as they usually are, pranking other people in the office and laughing to themselves even when it isn’t that funny. Louis feels bad for all of the things he  _ doesn’t _ see that they do to his employees. 

Today everyone is working hard and quietly because they’ve got a bonus coming up this month, and another party as an incentive to get their numbers up. His social media team has been doing wonderfully and they’ve hired a new photographer for in-house shoots with the talent, and for once everything seems to be going perfectly. 

Except for Michael and Jake. 

Even so, Louis makes it through the day unscathed, head down in his office as he focuses. He sorts through an entire three piles of paperwork for new clients and another stack of prospective ones, flicking through their files to decide if he wants to meet with them or not. He puts the ones that seem promising off to the side and continues until Niall comes by to let him know he’s heading home. 

“Sounds good, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis smiles at him. 

“See you, man,” Niall grins, backing away toward the lift with a mock salute. 

It doesn’t take him long to pack up his own things, organizing everything into neat piles to pick up where he left off tomorrow. When he stands back to look at all of it, he smiles. He’s made a lot of progress over these last few days. 

Stepping out into the lobby, he pulls out his key to lock his office door, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. As he turns to grab his jacket from the entryway, he catches a few of his other employees headed out as well. 

“Goodnight, Sasha, Emily,” he calls, giving them a small smile and a wave as he slides his jacket on. “Good work today!” 

“Thanks, boss!” 

“Goodnight, Louis!” 

He flicks off the main switch in the lobby, the lone emergency light the only one left on behind the empty reception desk. His receptionist is pregnant and Louis allows her to leave early now so she can avoid the stress of getting out of the parking garage and traffic as she gets home safely. 

Just as he’s about to press the button for the lift, he pauses as he hears loud voices coming down the corridor. It’s the direction of accounting, which means it’s probably the same people he’s been trying to avoid. 

Jake and Michael round the corner into the lobby with their own bags, eyes narrowing as they land on him. Louis takes a deep breath and presses the button anyway, hoping it’ll open quickly even though the girls are still probably on it. 

“Holding up, old man?” Michael snickers from behind him, raising a brow. 

“Fine,” Louis quips. “Just tired from all the work today. Ready to head home.” He presses the button harder. 

“That’s too bad,” Michael taunts, smirking toward Jake as he snorts. “Why don’t you go home to baby shrink and tell him all about it? I’m sure he’ll let you fuck him to relieve the stress.” 

The doors finally open but Louis doesn’t step onto the lift. Instead, he turns to face them, red hot anger filling him as they continue to chuckle. He’s had enough. 

“Shut up,” Louis hisses as something clicks in him. “You don’t have any idea what the  _ hell _ you’re talking about. Maybe if you two were  _ half _ the dom Harry is you’d be able to recognize some of the qualities.” He doesn’t stop to take in their affronted expressions. “Just because you’re jealous that you can’t keep a submissive for more than a few days doesn’t mean you have the right to shit on other people’s. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go home to the best dom in the world and forget all about your shitty excuses of a job today. Do me a favor and don’t fucking bother coming in tomorrow.” 

Louis starts to press the button again, then suddenly pauses, a hand on his coat. 

He’s just now remembered that he’s their boss. This is  _ his _ space, and he’s going to take it back. Right now. 

“No,” he says to himself, stopping again. “You know what? Pack your things. Get out of my office.” 

“What?” Jake chokes, expression turning serious for once. “You can’t - you can’t just-” 

“I can, actually,” Louis cuts him off with a patronizing smile. “I should’ve done this a long time ago. If you’re not gone by tomorrow, I’ll call security to escort you both out.”

He levels them with a sharp glare as if daring them to say something else, exhaling gratefully when they shut their open mouths and turn to head back to their offices without another word. 

Louis feels both extremely powerful and entirely ready to fall into bed with Harry and sleep for days. 

+

The drive home seems longer than usual, quiet enough that the ringing in his ears seems like an annoying, unrelenting whistle. His limbs ache terribly from the long hours on his feet and in uncomfortable chairs, a searing pain shooting up his spine every time he lifts his foot to take a step. 

He’s cried once already,  _ secretly _ , in the bathroom next to his office. The disappointment of someone quitting for their rival company and losing what could’ve been a multi-million dollar opportunity in the span of just a few hours had really done him in, plus having to fire two other employees so suddenly. He doesn’t feel like talking through his feelings right now, no matter how much Harry thinks it might help. All of it will just have to wait until tomorrow. 

He stumbles up the stairs after waiting for the lift for a good five minutes once he makes it to the penthouse, cursing when it hadn’t opened. Vision still somewhat blurry with his unshed tears, Louis grips tight onto the railing and uses all of his weight to pull himself higher and higher until he reaches his floor. Several times he jabs his key into his palm on accident, hissing and fumbling to turn it around and jam it into the lock. 

It’s like the floodgates open when he pushes open the door, Harry’s head snapping over to him. A few meters away he’s at the stove cooking dinner, a big smile on his face as he opens his mouth to greet Louis. When he sees his face, he frowns. 

“Louis, what’s the matter?” he asks, turning the stove down until it’s on a low simmer. 

Harry starts toward him but Louis’ faster, all of his things falling to the ground as he falls forward on unsteady legs, grabbing onto the fabric of Harry’s shirt as he really begins to cry. Without another word he falls into him, still clutching onto Harry’s pants as he sobs. 

“Love,” Harry murmurs worriedly. 

His hand falls into Louis’ hair, petting at the top of his head and occasionally coming down further to wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

“It’s alright, darling, you’re alright,” he tries again, “breathe for me.” 

Nothing Harry’s saying seems to get through to him, and he can’t stop crying, clinging onto his clothes. He doesn’t know how to make it better but his body and mind are telling him that Harry does, that Harry will make him feel grounded again. 

“Nadu,” Harry says firmly, voice loud enough to cut through his cloudy mind. 

In an instant, Louis drops to his knees. His arms extend until his wrists are upturned on top of his thighs, his head bent forward but his back straight. 

The order gives him something to focus on, a task he can accomplish and perform well on, something to tether him back to this moment. The loop of negative thoughts that’d been running around his head seem to have been reduced down to his own heartbeat and the sound of Harry’s breathing. 

“Good boy,” he praises. “That’s it, Louis, breathe with me.” 

Though it’s supposed to be a kneeling pose, Harry shows no issue in crouching low to the ground as well so he can keep an eye on Louis’ face, fingertips touching him at all times. It immediately calms him a bit more, being able to breathe in his scent and feel him so closely, and Louis shudders through a few more deep breaths until he feels stable enough to speak. 

“I - I’m sorry,” he stutters, wiping the back of his hand over his nose with a sniffle. He feels embarrassed for acting out so much now. 

“Don’t apologize,” Harry tells him, shifting so he can sit on the floor with his back pressed against the cabinet. With both hands he moves Louis until he’s tucked underneath his arm, his chin on top of Louis’ head. “D’you want to tell me what happened?” 

_ Not really, _ Louis muses with a frown. But if he’s learned anything so far since meeting Harry, it’s the fact that he no longer has to carry everything himself. No matter how big or how small, he’s allowed to feel how he’s feeling. 

“I fired Michael and Jake,” he mutters. 

“You did?” 

“Yeah,” Louis hums. “They were being rude. So I fired them.” 

“I’m sorry, love,” Harry sighs, petting at the side of Louis’ head. “What were they being rude about?” 

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Louis tries to figure out a way to tell him. “Uhm, you,” he says quietly. 

“I see,” Harry nods. He doesn’t sound angry or worked up at all but Louis can’t help the way guilt seizes him, sitting up so he can face Harry and look him in the eye. 

“But I’ve been meaning to fire them for a long time, and that was the final straw. They just said the same stuff they said before when you came up there basically, and I was tired of it. They’re awful workers anyway,” he reasons. “But… I won’t stand for them talking about you that way.” 

Nodding again to himself, Harry stares down at his own lap as silence falls over the kitchen. Louis can’t even begin to pinpoint what he’s feeling, a mixture of both pride and insecurity in his eyes. 

“Well, do  _ you _ still have any of those doubts?” he asks Louis, fingertips still brushing lightly over his arm. 

He answers without hesitation. “No. I don’t.” 

“Then, that… that’s good. That makes me really happy, Louis,” he breathes. 

Leaning forward, Louis braces his knees on the tile floor of the kitchen as he wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders. It’s gotten to where this is his favorite place to be, in Harry’s space with his big hands on Louis’ rib cage, holding him close enough that their heartbeats feel somehow connected. It’s quiet, but not the kind that Louis dislikes. Instead it’s calm, like a reset from anything that isn’t going the right way. He hugs him tighter for a moment before he pulls away. 

He doesn’t manage to get far though, Harry’s arms preventing him from leaving his space. Louis pauses, nose to nose with him, as they share breath. 

And then Harry’s bringing a hand up to his face to close the distance, kissing him properly. Louis immediately sighs and settles into his lap with his own legs on either side of Harry’s, a content sigh falling from his lips. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of this. 

They’ve kissed (among other things) a lot recently, still in that phase of newness that makes Louis’ tummy swirl with sharp arousal. It’s like he can’t ever get enough of him now that he feels more secure, more willing to take risks and try things he hasn’t with anyone else. Despite the quick lovers and one night stands he’s indulged in previously, Louis sort of wants to draw this out as long as possible. That way, when they do finally go all the way, it won’t feel like it had any of those other times. He won’t wake up alone in the morning, feeling used as he stumbles to the shower with a phantom ache in his limbs. 

When it happens with Harry, he wants it to be perfect. He’s never had the chance to be with someone who he actually truly cared so deeply for, and that only adds to his excitement. 

As if reading his mind, Harry stops them just as Louis’ hips begin to grind down unconsciously onto the growing bulge at the front of Harry’s trousers. 

On the kitchen floor, though his back and legs must be aching, Harry pulls his face away and cradles Louis’ head back to his chest, holding him close in his lap. They should really move to the couch or the bedroom, but part of Louis feels like the moment is too sacred to disrupt. 

He trusts Harry to know anyway, so instead of worrying like he usually does he lets himself be held, his eyes falling shut to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Things are changing around him in every area of his life, but he isn’t scared. 

Harry always tells him it’s going to be okay, that no matter what they still have each other, and Louis’ beginning to believe him. 

+

Louis thinks firing Michael and Jake might just be the best thing he’s ever done. Several other employees have already come by to thank him for it, much to his surprise. The work day is much calmer without their snide remarks and unnecessary drama. 

However, losing them means adding to his own workload. No matter how on top of things they are it’s nearly impossible to hire someone within 24 hours, so Louis leaves it up to his assistant to research and find someone before next week starts. 

For the time being that means Louis has to stay even later to finish up. He isn’t tired, per se, but he’s losing energy to finish things rapidly. His eyes are unfocused and he’d finished his glass of water ages ago but hadn’t wanted to bother anyone for another. 

He’d been so zoned out staring at one spot on a document for so long that he jumps when the receptionist knocks on his door frame, letting him know she’s leaving for the night. Everyone else left about an hour ago, Louis’d heard them, and she looks exceptionally exhausted. He waves her off with a smile and glances back down to his work with a sigh. 

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone to text Harry, there’s another knock. When he glances up he grins, eyeing Harry and several bags of takeout. 

“I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” he greets Louis, crossing the room to press his lips to his forehead once. “I figured you might be hungry and I didn’t feel like cooking tonight.” 

“Mm, it’s definitely okay,” Louis nods. “It smells  _ amazing _ . Thank you.” 

Before he can get his food, Louis stands and winces, his back popping and shoulders aching from sitting for so long. He braces both hands on his desk and rolls his neck side to side, stiff and uncomfortable in his suit. 

“Alright?” Harry checks, setting down the bags in favor of inspecting him properly. 

“I’m okay, just a bit stiff,” he explains. 

Harry tuts and slides between him and the wall, big hands coming up to grab at his suit jacket. “C’mere, let’s get you comfortable.” 

He slips Louis’ heavy jacket off of him and lays it over the back of his desk chair so it won’t wrinkle. Then he lifts his fingers again and lays them on Louis’ tense shoulders, massaging the tendons deeply. 

“Oh,” Louis breathes. “That feels good.” 

“Yeah? Good,” Harry grins, kissing the back of his neck. 

Another dom might’ve taken the chance to lecture him on how much better he’d feel if he’d just stay at home, if he didn’t insist on keeping his job. But Harry only does what he can to help, letting Louis stay in control of his own choices. 

Maybe that’s the difference, Louis thinks. Harry controls only when Louis asks him to, and only a small portion of his life. He doesn’t demand or overstep like he’s seen other doms do before. 

“Do you want to eat now?” Harry asks him, slowing his movements. 

“Actually, I - I was thinking maybe we could, uhm,  _ y’know _ , since you’re here,” Louis fumbles, blushing with his head down. 

“You want to play a bit?” He hums, “We can do that if you want, darling.” 

“Yes, please,” Louis smiles breathlessly, relief flooding his veins. Their relationship has just recently taken on a sexual edge instead of just instructional, and Louis can’t stop himself from fantasizing about it throughout the day. If he’s got Harry and an empty office, he’s absolutely going to take advantage of it. 

“Go stand in the middle of the room,” Harry whispers, giving Louis’ shoulders one final squeeze before he pats his back to get him to move. 

Immediately Louis does so, hands flying to undo the buttons of his work shirt. The collar feels too high and the material too itchy, like he has too many layers on even though he can already feel the cool air through it, his nipples poking through the front. 

On his way back from locking the office door Harry stops him, telling him to button it back up. Before he complies Louis makes a sound of complaint at the order, unable to help himself now that he’s so suddenly tired. 

“We’ll take it off,” Harry soothes him, “Just not right this second.” 

“Why can’t I just take it off?” Louis frowns. 

“Because it doesn’t have the same effect,” Harry says, shrugging, avoiding his eye. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, regarding Louis lazily. “I could tell you to get naked anytime I want. It’s simple, straight to the point.” 

He pushes off of the furniture and stalks forward slowly, his eyes now fully trained on Louis’. He looks broad and tall in the outfit he’s got on, his demeanor loose and casual and the first few buttons of his top undone. The sight of him getting closer has Louis’ breath catching. 

Harry crosses over to him and then keeps going, moving to stand directly behind him. When he speaks again, his hot breath raises goosebumps along the back of Louis’ neck, the outline of his lips wet from his tongue when he speaks. 

“Or, I could tell you to stand up straight, facing me, and remove your shirt. I could tell you to do it slowly, to do it all for  _ me _ .” 

The slightest touch of Harry’s nose makes its way from his shoulder up to his ear and Louis shivers, leaning back. Just as he begins to rest his weight against Harry’s chest he moves away completely, leaving Louis standing unsteady and cold in the middle of the floor. 

“The difference is clear, Louis. One of those commands is fully physical. I tell you to get naked, you get naked. That’s all there is to it.” 

Harry crosses his arms and circles him once more, the sound of his footsteps like explosions in Louis’ heightened state of arousal. He’s hyper aware of every move he makes, of Harry’s calculated steps and his own shuddery breathing. His back feels like ice where Harry’s warmth used to be. 

“The second one is  _ emotional _ . It implies that you’re undressing for  _ me _ , that you  _ want _ me to see you so vulnerably, that you’re allowing me this privilege and the promise of something more. It’s layered - the eye contact, the pace at which you undress, the implication of  _ why _ you’re doing it. It makes you think, not just do. And the mind is one of the biggest catalysts for  pleasure , Louis. Anyone who ignores that is undeserving of you.” 

He stops again when he’s standing directly in front of Louis. His eyes are gentle but everything else about him remains firm, the quiet understanding in his irises coexisting with the complete acknowledgement that he’s in control. 

“Being a good dom is rooted in making you  _ feel _ , not in giving you an empty order. If there’s no emotional payoff, you can leave a scene feeling drained and restless, or you can drop,” he explains, tilting his head to one side and watching Louis gulp, tugging restlessly at the sleeves of his shirt. “Fulfilling these emotional orders not only reaffirms my dominance, it shows that both of us value your submission as well.” 

Finally, he steps forward and reaches a hand out to cup Louis’ cheek, grabbing his chin and running a finger over his bottom lip until it parts open on a small gasp. Louis swears he feels sparks but he blinks rapidly, trying to keep his focus. Harry’s lips twitch. 

“ _ That _ is why it’s such a big deal when you follow my orders, even just the small, simple ones. It shows me that you trust me to take care of you and to know that I would never ask for more than you’re willing to give me. That I would never use my position to take advantage of you in any way.” 

He offers Louis one warm, close-lipped smile before he drops his hand and backs away. He’s in a trance watching Harry back up until he reaches the other wall next to the fireplace, leaning casually up against it with one ankle crossed over the other. 

“Now,” Harry says quietly, gaze fixed back on him. “I want you to stand in front of the sofa and unbutton your shirt, just the first few buttons.” 

“Yes, H,” Louis breathes. 

“And who are you doing it for?” Harry asks. 

“You,” he answers quickly. Louis’ fingers are shaky as they undo the first three buttons, glancing back up at Harry before he goes any further. 

He tries to stay still but his feet shift restlessly on the feathered rug, swallowing every few seconds to cure his perpetually dry throat. 

“I think I recall some notes about a bit of humiliation in that paperwork of yours, yes?” 

Blood rushing to his cheeks already, Louis nods, breathless. “Yes, H.” 

“Are you alright with trying out a bit of that tonight?” Louis nods eagerly. “And you know your colors?” 

“Yes, H. Red, yellow, and green.” 

“Good boy,” he murmurs. Harry’s eyes travel around the room and take it all in, gaze lingering on the furniture and Louis’ desk and Louis can practically see his brain whirring, just as Louis’ own is with ideas. “Lean over that chair for me,” Harry instructs. 

The chair in question is already right in front of Louis in the middle of the room, only one step to his side. He does as he’s told and shifts until it’s directly in front of him, and then, face burning bright red, he leans forward until the muscles in his stomach are touching the firm leather of the modern looking chair. Louis can’t help the noise he makes when he accidentally grinds forward. 

“You’re hard for me, baby?” 

Louis whimpers once, nodding with his chin down. “I am, H.” he whispers. 

“Already? Hm,” Harry hums, tilting his head back toward the other side. “Press it into the chair, then.” 

Hissing as he does what he’s told, Louis grimaces and registers his breath catch, the firm outline of the chair foreign against his prick. It feels like it had seconds ago, but this time he has permission, and that makes it feel worlds better already. 

“Can - can I move, H?” he asks, tightening his hands behind his back. He hadn’t even noticed he assumed that pose until this moment. 

“Not yet. Use one of your hands to touch yourself from behind.” 

Snapping into action, Louis keeps his hips still against the rough material of the chair but lets one of his hands drift further backward, smoothing it over the curve of his own arse appreciatively until he’s advised further. He and Harry have played before but not much back here, where he knows Harry will one day be inside of him. With each passing day he feels more giddy about when that’ll happen. 

When a few more silent moments pass he gets brave, pressing down more firmly over the middle seam of his trousers in the back. Louis gasps when his middle finger applies pressure over where he wishes Harry was right now, already clenching with need and accidentally rocking forward into the chair with the motion. 

His choked off moan alerts Harry to his actions and he stands straight, stepping just a bit closer to Louis. 

“You want to get yourself off, is that it?” Harry asks, his voice simple and nonchalant. Nothing like Louis’ breathy tone that he can’t seem to keep in check. 

“Yes,” Louis gasps again, “please, H.” 

“Go ahead then. Hump the chair for me.” 

His breath leaves him in one go. The command is so - so  _ filthy, _ leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s clear what he’s supposed to do, and he regards Harry with glossy eyes and an open mouth as he begins to grind himself forward, then backward again against his own hand as Harry watches. 

The hot streak of shame burning in his tummy only makes everything more heightened, the fact that he can see evidence of Harry’s own excitement through his tight jeans. His skin feels like it’s on  _ fire. _

At first he tries to go slowly. Louis grinds forward so that he can feel every single shiver, every hitch in the pattern of the leather dragging over his covered prick. Soon it becomes too much though, and his mouth drops slightly open as he quickens his rhythm. 

There’s still a hand on his arse and Louis tries to balance the pressure, but it just isn’t quite enough. He needs to get a hand inside of his trousers, needs to touch himself where he’s been too ashamed to for a while now. It isn’t just a want anymore - he feels like he might combust if he doesn’t get to feel skin on skin. 

“Stop,” Harry’s voice echoes. Louis’ steady rhythm falters some and slows to a stop. “Take off your trousers, baby,” he says. 

Practically vibrating from how good he already feels, Louis sways on his feet but holds onto the chair in front of him to keep steady as he reaches down, clumsily sliding off the tight pants. 

As soon as they’re off he glances back up to Harry with a finger inside the band of his boxers. 

“Keep those on. We don’t need to messy the chair too much,” he smirks. “Now, press yourself against it again. Touch yourself for me.” 

Louis grapples forward onto the chair again, embarrassed at his own desperation. He feels like he’s overcome with -  _ something, _ needier for release than he’s ever really felt before. He’s humping his office chair, for fuck’s sake, and he feels too good, too  _ sexy _ to be bothered about it. No one’s ever made him feel that way before. 

Then again, nothing with Harry has been what he expected. He figures he should know by now to just trust him, he has a feeling that he knows Louis needed someone that would keep him on his toes after such monotonous years of routines and relationships that never lived up to his standards. 

And he  _ is _ on his toes right now, actually pushing up on his ankles to get a better angle and rub himself against the leather. A particularly stimulating upward thrust sends him reeling, choking on a moan as his eyes roll backward and his hips punch forward. 

Without his trousers in the way, there’s so much more friction right where he needs it, his grinding so messy that his boxers have lowered and the very tip of his blushing prick nudges against the chair. 

Eyes shut and shivering, Louis’ head drops down, his neck limp, and he bends his wrist, slipping it inside of his underwear. He manages to nudge the tip of his middle finger against his entrance right before another hand brushes over his neck. 

Gasping, Louis’ head snaps back up again, brows turned in toward each other as he glances up at Harry who’s standing next to him now. Louis hadn’t even heard him approach. 

“Feels good, baby?” he murmurs. 

His hand brushes feather-light over Louis’ pulse and his collarbone, stroking up over his cheek and finally swiping some hair off of his forehead. His actions are gentle, coaxing, but his words have just the slightest edge to them. It makes Louis dizzy, hips continuing to snap mindlessly into the chair in front of him. 

“F - feels good, H,” he manages, his finger returning to its former position inside of his boxers, wet with all of his excitement. 

“Can’t believe you’re doing this,” Harry murmurs, running a soothing hand down the back of his head. “Right on your office chair, too. Everytime you sit behind your desk you’ll see it and remember this moment, how desperate you were that you just couldn’t wait any longer. What would your employees think?” 

“ _ Shit, _ ” Louis hisses. What  _ would _ they think? Seeing their boss so completely opposite of the hardened CEO he usually is. He can’t even begin to think about that right now, not besides the way it sends him moving all over again. 

With Harry so close to him the zip of shame reignites in his hips, a driving force as he continues to hump the outline of the chair. He’s doing it so hard now that it begins to slide across the shiny linoleum, just another humiliating detail. 

“You want it so bad, don’t you, darling? You just can’t stop,” he coos. 

A shudder racks his entire body as he finally manages to get just a bit of one finger inside of himself. It’s been a while but the thick arousal distracts from the slight discomfort, and he works up to the first knuckle, pushing it in and back out until it’s a smooth glide. Harry’s touch lingers across his back and his hips over his shirt, just barely grazing hot skin as Louis’ finger speeds up in time with his forward thrusts. 

Then Harry’s fingertips dance lower, stroking over where Louis’ arm disappears into his boxers. Louis freezes, whimpering again, then full on sobs when Harry’s own hand delves in as well and curls around Louis’ smaller one. 

“Louis,” Harry calls, “what’s your color?” 

“Green,  _ so _ green,” he moans. 

Once he colors, Harry’s grip turns more sure, his long, nimble fingers cool in contrast with Louis’ glowing heat. His middle finger stutters only once inside of himself at the intrusion. 

Harry’s grip tightens as he maneuvers Louis’ hand to where he’s got two fingers poised instead of one, guiding a second of Louis’ fingertips over his hole. Harry isn’t even directly touching him there but it’s enough to feel like he is, close and intimate and  _ new. _ God, Louis can’t wait until the day Harry flips him over, moves them to the desk, and takes Louis so hard he feels it for days. 

For now, he sticks to moving Louis’ wrist how he likes. He holds Louis’ fingers to his palm until he’s only able to use those two, and Louis gets the hint. Since he’s had one inside of him for a few minutes now he’s more used to the feeling. Using the one other digit he’s allowed, he follows Harry’s guidance to work that one in next to the first. 

The new intrusion sends a strangled groan up his throat. He staggers forward, the breath knocked out of him as his hip bones jab into the firm leather and his prick leaks out onto the rough material. 

“H - H,” he stammers, his other hand gripping Harry’s wrist that’s controlling the pace of Louis’ thrusts into himself. 

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, “I know it feels so good.” 

When Harry’s fingertip accidentally nudges against his rim, Louis loses it. He squeezes his eyes shut and his mouth falls open wide, his hips pistoning forward as fast as they’ll go as he grinds against his fingers and subconsciously tries to fit Harry’s in with both of his digits as well.

“H - can I? Can I?” 

“Such a good boy, asking me first,” Harry remarks, making him swoon at the praise. “You can come if you remind me whose orgasm it is first.” 

Brian hazy and slow, Louis struggles to keep his release at bay as he tries to come up with an answer to Harry’s question. 

His fingers are already deep but Harry’s wrist forces them even deeper. Just for a moment they graze over his prostate, and Louis cries out at the shock. Out of all of the years he’s touched himself and let other people touch him, he’s never been able to find it. 

“Whose is it, Louis, hm? Who does it belong to?” he croons into Louis’ ear. “C’mon, baby, tell me.” 

The pressure on the deepest parts of him returns as Harry uses Louis’ hand to fuck him, forcing his fingers to curve up into it. 

“Ah, ah-” Louis pants. He isn’t sure how much longer he can hold it anymore, his mind reeling and his body on fire, scorched everywhere Harry’s touching him. 

“Louis,” Harry demands. 

With another gasp, Louis’ eyes fly open. “You,” he breathes, clutching at Harry’s arm, “s’yours, H. It’s yours.” 

“Come for me, baby,” he growls. 

The hand covering Louis’ speeds up, practically shaking and bumping up into him so fast that he’s jostled. His boxers have gotten rucked down so far that half of his prick is exposed, rubbing like a blur against the poor office chair that’s sticky with his arousal. 

He’s so close that all it takes is a quick press of Harry’s lips to his neck to push him over the edge. Louis hurdles toward it and comes, white exploding behind his eyelids when Harry’s movements don’t cease. 

In the midst of it, as he’s shaking and stumbling as the pleasure washes over him in waves, he blinks hard and catches Harry’s eye, and suddenly everything goes still. 

+

“How are you, darling?” 

He comes back slowly, coaxed out of his space by Harry’s low, familiar tone. The rhythm of Harry’s heart beat registers next. Louis clenches his fists experimentally where they’re tucked against his chest, eyelashes fluttering open. 

“I’m-” Louis smacks his lips together once, his tongue feeling too big in his mouth. “I’m cold,” he frowns. 

“That’s okay, it’s normal,” Harry says, reaching over behind him to grab the wool throw off the back of the sofa in his office. He unfolds it and drapes it around Louis’ shoulders, and then Louis’ immersed in the warm space between Harry’s chest and the soft material. He snuggles into it, his brain still slowly beginning to flicker back on. 

“It is?” 

Louis can feel his nod, tickling the hairs at the top of his head with his chin. “During a scene your body temperature rises, especially when you go under. After you’ve come and the endorphins begin to wear off you get cold,” he explains. “That’s why I try to use a lot of skin-to-skin contact and soft blankets like these.” 

His brain is still moving slow but he blinks hard and raises a brow, rubbing his cheek against Harry’s pec. 

“You - you really know what you’re talking about.” 

“Well, yeah,” Harry chuckles, the noise louder where Louis’ ear is pressed against his chest. “I’ve waited my entire life for this,” he adds, quieter. 

“To be a dom?” Louis asks. 

“To have a submissive.” 

Such a quick answer throws him off once again. Harry’s so sure of himself and what he wants even though he’s so young, and in a lot of ways Louis can relate to that. He was the same way. Harry seems sure of himself in every aspect of his life though, including his classification, and that’s something Louis can’t relate to. Until now, maybe. 

“I’m sorry you got stuck with me,” Louis whispers. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry stops, his fingers halting their soothing caresses over his skin. “Why are you apologizing to me?” 

“Well, because, y’know,” Louis mutters, his face coloring as he shifts in Harry’s lap. 

“No, I don’t think I do,” he counters. “You’re a wonderful sub, Louis. Why would you ever apologize to me?” 

“I - you don’t have to keep pretending for me, Harry. I know none of this has been ideal for you. I - I’m older than you, for one. And with my job and everything,” he trails off. “Not to mention the fact that I can never seem to just let myself  _ go _ . It feels like my brain is always on and - I don’t know. It just feels like it’s been so long or, it’s been -  _ never _ , really so I don’t know how to just-” Louis tumbles over his words, slightly slurring as he scrambles to think of the things he’s trying to articulate. “... submit.” 

“Louis,” he breathes after a moment, “what do you think we’ve been doing?” 

“Okay,” Louis relents, drawing the word out, “but seriously, like, I disrespected you so much when we first met.” 

“And we talked about it and you’ve apologized. It’s over.” 

“But I made you move in with me.” 

“And I had no issue with that, baby. You’re comfortable and settled in there, and getting matched is such a big lifestyle change anyway. I wouldn’t want to take you out of your safe space.” 

“But-” Louis starts. 

“Louis,” Harry says lightly, “What do you think you’re doing when we do this?” He squeezes Louis’ body tighter to his chest. “When you come home and kneel for me? When you do what I ask of you without question?” Another long pause follows, and Harry sighs as he continues. “You’re a wonderful submissive, Louis. Quite frankly I couldn’t give a shit about your age or what you do for a living, so long as you’re happy and healthy.” Harry kisses his forehead, then his nose, and then each of his lips. “Are you?” He asks. 

“Happy?” 

“Mhm,” Harry hums, nosing at his cheek. “Are you happy?” 

Immediately Louis opens his mouth to say yes, but then he pauses. Of  _ course _ he’s happy, but it’s times like these that he’s struck by just how much. 

When Louis was still in school he used to love his submission classes - the ones they’re made to take once they turn sixteen and find out their classification. He used to take notes that filled up several binders over the year, and he always aced every exam. 

He’s never told anyone the entire truth, that he hasn’t  _ always _ been interested in business. The truth is that he dreamt of being the perfect submissive for a long, long time, and was practically obsessed with the idea all through school. 

It was university when all of that began to change. The first dom that asked Louis out on a date was one of the most popular guys on campus, and Louis couldn’t believe his luck at the time. Convinced it was going to be a whirlwind romance and the he was The One, it came as a more than hurtful surprise when he tried to sleep with Louis on the first date, got angry with him when he said no, and then proceeded to tell everyone at school he was a frigid, boring sub through and through. Louis broke up with him after he caught him making out with someone else the next day. 

After that, a streak of unfortunate events ensued. Louis dated a lot of different doms in those years, and each of them seemed somehow worse than the last. By the time he graduated, he was tired of it. 

So he abandoned everything he learned because it obviously wasn’t doing him any good, no matter how well he followed the lessons and tried to fit himself into the box of a perfect submissive. Louis threw himself into business instead because it was the only thing that seemed to truly interest him anymore. 

For a long time he enjoyed the looks he got when he was the only submissive in higher level courses, learning business and industry instead of other typical sub classes. In some weird form of revenge, he felt like he was getting back at all of the doms that had done him wrong, doing better at their own jobs than they were. 

A year of that turned into six, then seven, then eight, as he started his own talent agency and climbed to the top of the business world, nearly single-handedly. Because doms often refused to meet with him because of his classification, he had to do much of the hard work on his own, a fact which he’s still immensely proud of. 

Until now, it’s felt worth it. 

And then Harry came along and flipped everything upside down on him. He’s nothing like the doms that Louis dated before and Louis kind of wishes with all of his heart that he was a few years younger or Harry was a few years older and he’d have met him when he was still an optimist about the entire thing. 

At this point in his life, Louis’ gotten all of his petty revenge. He doesn’t hold the same hatred for doms that he had for a long time and he understands that sometimes there are more important things to care about, like his own health and happiness. 

So maybe it isn’t too late like he thought at the beginning of the year. Maybe Louis hasn’t entirely missed out on his happy. 

“Yes,” he says, voice rough and quiet. “I’m so happy.” 

“That’s wonderful. I am too,” Harry grins. “Promise me you won’t just go searching for reasons to put yourself down, okay?” he murmurs, his lips now at Louis’ shoulder. “I’m so happy with you, baby, and I think everything is going really, really well. Let’s just try to enjoy it, alright? I don’t plan on going anywhere.” 

“Okay,” Louis nods, exhaling into Harry’s neck. “I promise, H.” 

“M’not H right now, darling,” he reminds Louis softly. 

Louis hides his smile somewhere between Harry’s chin and shoulder. 

“I promise, Harry.” 

Most of the feeling has returned to his limbs and Louis stretches his aching legs out across the small sofa, stifling a yawn into his palm. 

“C’mon,” Harry says, patting Louis’ cheek sweetly. “Let’s go home, lovely.” 

He slips his hand into Harry’s and squeezes, holding on tight to his happy. 

+

In attempts to return the favor from a few weeks prior, Louis sets out to make Harry lunch to bring up to his work. Louis’ got the day off for a long weekend where he was supposed to have a meeting, but it’d been cancelled at the last second. When Harry texts him that he forgot lunch and he’ll have to run downtown to pick something up when he gets out, Louis doesn’t think twice. 

Though it’s something he’d been told that he’d have to do religiously for his future dom, Louis never learned how to cook very well. Turns out it didn’t matter, really, because Harry loves cooking anyway. 

But he’s been stressed lately, more than usual, with the influx of new patients now that school has started up again and the holidays are getting closer. Louis still doesn’t quite understand when he explains what part the seasons play in mental health, but he understands that this time of year hits particularly hard for most subs and doms alike. 

The fact that he’d forgotten to pack himself a lunch only proves how busy he’s been, and Louis wants to return the sweet favor of bringing him a warm meal when he needs it. Using what he can find in the kitchen and the cabinets, he manages to put together a bit of everything, a sandwich with some yogurt and assorted nuts, as well as a stick of the string cheese Harry likes and a bottle of juice. Reaching to the tallest cabinet, Louis puts a few small candy bars in there as well in case he needs something sweet. 

It isn’t much but he thinks it says that he cares, and he takes the extra time to write a little message on a sticky note before he leaves, encouraging him to get through the day and remember that he’s changing lives. Ending it with a small smiley face, Louis caps the marker and heads out to the car with the lunch box situated in the passenger seat. 

He remembers the last time he’d been to Harry’s office. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, and he hopes today will change that. This time he isn’t nervous, and he enjoys the short drive over to the quieter part of town where the world seems to move just a bit slower. 

Louis doesn’t have an exact schedule because Harry doesn’t have one either, sometimes even taking emergency walk-ins. He’s just hoping he’ll get a second between appointments to drop in and give him the food so he won’t have to skip a meal altogether. 

The waiting room is lit warmly and smells of the vanilla air fresheners plugged in the corner outlet, plants arranged around the room and magazines out on the coffee table. Louis takes a moment to look around properly, noticing things he hadn’t when he came here before. 

On one of the sofas, Louis’ eye catches on some scuffed Vans. His gaze travels up to the young man sitting there, his beanie low on his head as he scrolls through his phone. He’s the only other person here right now, and Louis clears his throat so he won’t startle him. 

“I’m sorry, this is Harry Styles’ office, isn’t it?” he double checks. 

Eyes flicking up to him, the guy sits up in the chair and nods. “Yeah. He should be out in,” he glances at the time on his phone, “about five minutes now.” 

“Okay, great. Thank you,” Louis says, stepping off to one side to sit down on the other sofa so he won’t bother him anymore. 

“Wait a second,” the guy says, “are you Louis?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Louis nods, smiling a bit confusedly. 

“Sorry, I just - Harry talks about you all the time,” he explains. 

“He does?” 

The man nods, offering a hand over the table. “I’m Brayden, by the way. One of his patients. Is that his lunch?” 

Louis nods, cheeks flushing. “Yeah, he forgot to make one today so I thought I’d bring it by for him.” 

“I can see why he says you’re so caring. He’s been stressed all day, and I didn’t think he would be able to make it across town to get something to eat. I was gonna stop myself but I have class right before and after this, so I’m glad you brought something up for him.” 

“He says I’m caring?” 

There’s probably other things he should’ve focused on in that sentence but Louis can’t help but to fixate on it. He’s eager to hear what Harry has to say about him behind closed doors, eager still for the confirmation it gives him. 

“He says you’re the perfect partner,” Brayden tells him. “That you’re very sweet and you make him really happy. Said it’s no wonder he fell in love with you so fast.” 

“What?” Louis breathes, freezing in the chair. “He said-” 

“Louis?” Harry appears at the door to the hallway, his head tilted sideways and a surprised smile on his lips despite his stress. “What are you doing here?” 

Practically jumping up from his seat to go to him, Louis wraps him in a quick hug and pecks him on the lips once, suddenly overcome with the need to acknowledge what he’s just found out. 

Harry loves him. 

“I brought you lunch,” Louis offers quietly. 

“I - that’s so sweet of you, love,” he grins. “Just give me one second and I’ll be with you, alright?” 

“Yeah - yeah, of course,” Louis nods, stepping back again. 

He watches as Harry walks another one of his patients to the door, reminding her of their next scheduled session before bidding her a goodbye and telling her to drive safe. Then he turns to Brayden and addresses him, his smile never once fading. 

“You can go on back if you want, Brayden,” Harry tells him, “I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

“Take your time,” Brayden nods, then turns toward Louis as he passes him to get to Harry’s office. “It was nice to meet you, Louis.” 

“You too,” Louis whispers. 

As soon as the door shuts Harry approaches him, wrapping his arms tight around his shoulders. Lips press to his head and Louis leans into it, eyes still wide but his heart bursting with happiness. How on earth has he managed to get this compassionate, perfect dom to fall in love with him? He muffles his grin into Harry’s chest. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” he sighs into Louis’ hair. “Can’t believe I forgot to bring lunch.” 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Louis chuckles. “It’s just a sandwich and a few sides with some juice.” 

“And  _ you _ made it for me. It’s going to be the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten,” he hums. 

“I think you’re overestimating my abilities,” Louis scoffs, his expression softening when Harry cups his face with his hands and meets his eye. “But thank you,” he adds, quieter. 

Harry leans forward and kisses him before he can say anything else and Louis wonders if it’s because maybe he wants to say what Brayden told him. That he wants to tell Louis he loves him. 

Harry  _ loves _ him. 

The thought makes Louis strain up on his tiptoes to kiss him harder, the lunch clutched in one hand and the other on Harry’s neck, his pulse underneath Louis’ fingertips.  _ Can you feel it?  _ he thinks.  _ Can you tell that I feel the same way?  _

Parting from him on an exhale, Louis’ eyes flutter open a moment later to Harry’s green ones. They both grin as Harry bumps their noses together and pecks him one last time, finally taking the lunch from his hands. 

“I’d better get back in there,” he says, frowning slightly. “I’m cutting into Brayden’s time.” 

“Okay,” Louis hugs him tightly once more before he goes. “I’ll see you at home later?” 

“I’ll call you the minute I leave,” Harry promises. 

He parts from Louis again and moves toward the hallway door, and for just a second Louis almost says it. Without even thinking consciously about it the words are on the tip of his tongue for the first time in any of his relationships, his chest swelling with the feeling. 

In the end, he just smiles. For now, when Harry returns it with that knowing twinkle in his eye and the lunch Louis made him in his hands, it’s enough. Louis hopes he can sense it as much as he can, evident in the way he kissed him, in the way they talked, in the stupid lunchbox resting in his hands. It’s everywhere around them and he’s only just beginning to truly see it. 

He leaves feeling ten times lighter, out from under a weight he hadn’t even known was there. A contract can bind them in the legal sense, can make sure that no one deviates from a strict plan and preset guidelines. 

Love is entirely different. There are no rules with love, no set way to feel or to act on it. It simply exists and for a long time Louis hid from it, ran away each and every chance he got. And to be honest, he never really thought he’d feel it at all. 

But, just like everything else these past few months, it seems to be falling perfectly right into his lap, reading for the taking. Harry makes him feel things he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager, giddy with a crush. Only this time, it’s tangible. 

Louis can feel it all around him, swirling in his tummy and swimming behind his eyelids, his skin alight with sparks underneath each of Harry’s nimble fingertips. He shivers behind the wheel of the car, still staring open-mouthed at the front window he knows Harry's on the other side of. 

Then, slowly, it turns into a grin. He smiles so wide that his cheeks begin to hurt after a few minutes, a bubbly laugh escaping them. This isn’t subspace, no, this is something much different, much better, altogether. This is Louis making up his mind. Being certain. Those last few shards of insecurity falling away. 

This is him giving in. 

+

“I want to show you something,” Louis starts. 

Harry’s brow raises from across the room where he’s sat on the sofa, a book open on his lap. “What is it, love?” 

“You have to come here,” he says seriously, holding out a hand for Harry to take. 

Despite his unsure smile, Harry abandons his book and takes his hand, letting himself be led through the living room and dining room to the other side of the penthouse. 

This hadn’t been an easy decision, but it hadn’t been all that difficult either. As anticlimactic as it is, Louis simply woke up this morning and decided that he was tired of waiting. 

“What is it, Lou?” he asks again, rubbing his thumb over where Louis’ hand is clutching his. 

Without giving an immediate answer, Louis pulls him along until they’re standing in the dimly lit hallway next to Harry’s home office, right in front of the double doors that used to intimidate him so much. Standing here, holding hands with Harry, it doesn’t feel anything of the sort. 

In fact, it kind of feels like a new beginning. For once, this room isn’t a reminder of his failed relationships and insecurities. Instead it’s a place that he and Harry can create new memories in. 

He pauses for a moment and turns to face him, a hand on the door handle. “This room - it’s important to me,” he begins. “I’ve never let anyone else inside of it because I wasn’t ready, but I think,” Louis bites his lip, eyelashes flickering up to Harry’s face, “I think I’m ready now. With you.” 

Feeling incredibly proud of himself for getting the words out, he drinks in Harry’s kind eyes and lets himself feel okay enough to turn the handle, and push it open behind him. 

The rush of air hits him first, and he takes several steps backward to allow Harry the space to come inside with him. 

For a few moments the air is stilted around them, static as Harry realizes what he’s looking at. After a minute or so Louis can’t bear to watch anymore and switches his gaze to the floor instead. He thought it would be perfect, but maybe Harry won’t like it - maybe they’ll have to redo it or change some things around or-

“Louis, this -” Harry huffs a small, overjoyed laugh, his eyes twinkling as they look around the room. “This is -” he stutters. 

Louis barely sees it coming before he’s tackled in a hug. That isn’t really the type of thing he’d anticipated doing in this room, but he’s more than happy to accept it. Sighing happily, he noses at Harry’s chest and wraps his arms around him in return. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he smiles. 

Harry tilts his chin up and kisses him deeply, unable to keep himself from grinning. “Thank you for allowing me in here,” he settles on. 

There’s more that he wants to say, Louis can tell, but for now that’s all that needs to be said. Louis mirrors his grin and kisses him once more. 

It feels good - really, really good, because Harry’s done so much for him already. Taught him things and made him feel confident, stuck by him even when he messed up. This is something that Louis’ able to do in return that doesn’t even require much effort on his part. This is a space  _ Harry _ can feel safe in after leaving his home for Louis, a place where he can be completely in his element. 

“Only you,” Louis says. 

He looks up again for a kiss, swallowing Harry’s delighted laughter with his own unwavering grin. 

+

Louis doesn’t waste any time in suggesting they try out the room. 

“So it’s just like the ice cube thing?” 

Already in position on the floor, Louis listens patiently to the sound of Harry’s bare feet on the carpet around him. After ripping the initial bandaid off, all that’s left is excitement. Louis can’t wait to see what will happen now that they have an entirely new area to explore. 

Because Harry’s never used this room before, but honestly - neither has Louis. 

“Sort of,” he says. “It’s still a trust exercise but I think you’ll find it really relaxing as well, it should help clear your mind a bit.” 

Louis feels anything but relaxed when he thinks about Harry touching him, but he keeps that to himself for right now. 

It’s already exhilarating. Harry is in general anywhere they are, but in here, it’s like something shifts. Louis knew there was a science to their classifications, that certain people thrive in certain environments, and now he’s getting to see it firsthand. 

“Chin up,” he says, voice firm and clear, not echoing with all of the noise softening material in the room. 

Obediently, Louis looks up from his kneeling position to catch Harry’s eye. He’s seen Harry naked before when he showers or changes clothes and a few times when they’ve been intimate with each other, but he hasn’t gotten to touch yet. He doesn’t know if he’ll get to today or not, but he’s hopeful. 

“M’ready, H,” he breathes, struggling to keep himself from shifting excitedly on the carpet. 

Harry chuckles, running a hand over his cheek before his expression returns back to neutral. “I know you are, baby. Be patient.” 

It feels like it takes hours as Harry comes to stand directly in front of him, taking his time as he unzips his trousers and strips off his shirt. His tattoos rise and fall in a captivating rhythm, Louis’ eyes drawn to each one like a maze. The sound of the clothing hitting the ground is quiet but it rings in his ears anyway, making him shiver. 

“Think I’d like to have your mouth on me, darling. Is that something you’d want to do?” 

“Yes, H,” Louis tries to keep the eagerness out of his tone, but he thinks he fails when Harry’s lips quirk upward again. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs, “You’ll be good for me? Keep me nice and warm for a bit?” 

“Please, H, I will. Promise.” 

As if to reward him, Harry leans down and presses their lips together. Then he stands again and everything heats up once more. Harry’s wide hips are situated no more than a breath away from Louis’ open mouth, saliva gathering at the corners of his lips. Harry’s the only one who’s ever been able to get him this worked up without even touching him first, paying close attention to the build up and what’s going on in his head and not just with his body. 

If he had his way, he would do much more than keep Harry warm for a bit. Louis trusts him though, like always. He sits back on his legs and keeps his chin high as Harry slides a finger underneath the band of his black boxers. 

Despite the dark color, Louis can see the distinct shape of Harry’s cock through the material. He’s already hard, has been since they entered the room, and Louis can see a wet patch forming right at the tip. The fact that Harry’s equally as worked up as he is about this makes him feel loads better, already more confident in his skin. 

With a slight smirk, Harry dips his thumbs into them and begins to slide them down his legs, his length springing forwards and nearly hitting Louis square in the jaw. There isn’t any time to react to that properly because of the sharp desire that blooms in between his legs. 

“I don’t want you to move, alright? Not at first,” Harry instructs. 

“I won’t, H,” he promises. “I’ll be good.” 

Harry fists a hand over himself and makes a show of how good it feels, tossing his head back with a light hiss and taking the time to flick his wrist at the tip. Then he cracks open one eye and glances filthily down at Louis, his eyes light but intention dark. 

“Show me, then,” he mutters. 

As soon as he has permission, Louis wastes no time in leaning forward and taking Harry into his mouth. Which, he soon realizes, is not going to be as easy as he thought. He has to stretch his jaw as far as it’ll go to simply hold half of him in his mouth. 

He doesn’t register that he’s making noise until Harry shushes him with a hand on the back of his head. Louis stills then, and shuts his eyes, willing himself to relax. 

Eventually it works a bit better. His jaw relaxes the longer he holds the position, and Louis makes the most of it before it’s sure to begin aching. His tongue, flat on the underside of Harry’s cock, twitches even as he tries to hold it still. 

Louis can feel  _ everything. _ Every vein, every ridge of Harry’s cock feels even bigger stuffed inside of his mouth. At the very back of his throat he can just barely taste where he’s been steadily leaking, the flavor unfamiliar as he experimentally swallows around his length. 

The response comes immediately as Harry’s abdomen clenches above his head. Struggling to look up and see his face, Louis’ vision goes blurry but he registers the way Harry tosses his head backward and then forward to keep his eyes on Louis, his hand still firm at the back of his head to keep him connected. 

His reaction pushes him just slightly deeper into Louis’ mouth and Louis chokes a bit, tears gathering on his lash line and one escaping down his cheek. They’d talked before this about nonverbal cues, and Louis knows to squeeze Harry’s thigh if he needs to stop. He deliberately keeps his palm on his own thigh and breathes through it. 

Minutes pass and Louis begins to get used to the feeling. He feels centered, grounded with something to focus on without any distraction. 

A single fingertip draws him out of his head, eyes blinking hazily open again when Harry runs a gentle touch over the curve of his open mouth. He traces a circle around Louis’ stretched lips, using a thumb to pull lightly at one side, watching his reaction carefully. 

Several strained whimpers leave him that he tries to keep in, muffled although he’s sure Harry can feel the vibrations. 

“You’re doing so well for me,” he pants, voice much deeper than it’d been moments earlier. “Just a little longer now.” 

Vaguely Louis wonders how much time that equates to. He feels too good to question it though, his mind caught somewhere outside of his body. Louis isn’t even getting himself off, but he already feels on the edge of some kind of release, perhaps something he’s never even gotten to experience before. 

Little by little Harry’s hand begins to apply pressure on the back of his head, testing him. Louis wills his throat to cooperate as he sinks down further onto Harry’s cock, still incredibly hard and firm inside of his mouth. 

This time he doesn’t choke even though more tears spring to his eyes. It feels like he’s on another level right now, separated from reality. All he’s aware of is the minute twitches of Harry’s length and his own wildly beating pulse. 

Everything becomes almost too much for just a moment as Harry slides almost all the way in, but then it stops. 

Mouth suddenly empty, Louis blinks several times to focus his gaze, swaying forward slightly until Harry catches him. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he says, gripping Louis’ face. “What’s your color, Louis? You with me?” 

“With you,” Louis slurs. “S’green.” 

“You did so, so well, love. D’you want to come for me?” 

“Want you to,” he frowns. Louis finally moves his hands from his thighs in order to grab at Harry’s, trying to get his hips back in the vicinity so that he can finish him off properly. 

A warm chuckle registers in his ears, then soft hands grabbing underneath his arm pits to lift him up. “C’mere, darling. We can both feel good, alright? You deserve it, you’ve done amazing today, kept me so warm,” he coos. 

Letting himself be ushered over to the silky linen, Louis falls sideways onto the bed, Harry right at his side. He lets Louis curl up into his chest as he pushes down his trousers with one hand, holding him close with the other. 

With his lips pressed to Louis’ temple he reaches down between them to line up their torsos. At the first touch of a hand to Louis’ prick he startles, gasping and gripping at Harry’s arm. Suddenly his own arousal becomes clear again, resurfacing after being forgotten as he focused on Harry instead. 

It all becomes more amplified when Harry’s big hand encircles not only Louis’ length but his own as well, both of their pricks pressed completely against each other. Harry’s groan is loud but Louis doesn’t flinch or turn away from him. 

Two, three more slick glides of Harry’s palm and they’re both coming. Louis shakes and buries his nose into Harry’s glistening collarbone, nibbling at the skin to keep himself grounded. Beside him, Harry curses loudly and bucks his hips up, both of their chests painted white. 

When they’re finished neither of them make it too far. They only shift slightly up the bed, in fact, where Harry cradles him close and runs a hand over his arm to soothe him until he stops shivering. 

“Sleep now, love. I’ll clean us up and move us to bed in a minute,” Harry whispers, lips pressed to his jaw. 

It’d been a more than perfect first time in the room, Louis reasons with a private grin, rubbing his cheek against Harry’s chest. 

Yeah, he definitely made the right choice. 

+

It’s like Louis can see all of it now, all of the  fake ness that’s happening right in front of him wherever he goes. Being a dom doesn’t mean bossing people around and belittling people to put yourself higher, and being a submissive doesn’t mean bending to someone’s every will and losing all sense of self in order to please someone else. 

Every single time Louis’ been with a dominant he’s left feeling - well, not at all dominated. He’s supposed to -  _ wired _ to - feel relieved, like some giant weight has been removed from his shoulders, but instead he’d always felt twice as heavy, as laden with stress and anxiety as he had when he walked in. 

Harry is a breath of relief. He’s the best kind of reprieve Louis could have asked for, and he couldn’t have shown up at a better time in his life. Louis was about ready to call off any hopes of a real relationship, any chance of finding a dom that would fit into the not quite cookie-cutter pieces of his life. He doesn’t know of many that would have stuck around even after finding out what Louis’ job is, but Harry had. 

It’s like all day Louis feels invincible. He delegates and he organizes, he makes important business deals and talks to the highest of the higher ups about big company decisions. And, most of the time, he adores it. 

But then he gets to go home each night and feel invincible in a different way. His only responsibility singles down into his own well-being and pleasure. He walks in and sees Harry there, in Louis’ apartment that Harry gave up his own to live in even though it hadn’t been typical, usually cooking dinner or doing his own work, and it’s like Louis is weightless. 

It's two completely different worlds, and sometimes Louis can’t believe he’s been lucky enough to stumble upon some universe where he gets to have both. Harry has all of the dominance and none of the cockiness and arrogance that typically comes with it. 

It’s because of all of this that he tells him he’s ready for more. 

Harry takes it in stride like he does everything else, only checking with him once to make sure he’s certain that he wants to be with him for real. Louis was expecting some kind of precoital ritual where they do breathing exercises together or something, but Harry doesn’t suggest anything of the sort. Instead, before he leaves for work that evening, he pulls Louis close and kisses him hard, grinning wide to match Louis. 

They don’t set an exact date so that neither of them will psych themselves out about it, but Louis can’t deny the giddy, excited feeling in his veins. It’s been ages since he’s slept with anyone, much longer since he hadn’t regretted it even when we had, and he knows it’ll be much worth the wait with Harry. 

Left alone in the apartment, he wanders around for a bit trying to clean in an effort to get rid of his restlessness before he ends up in his study. Something pulls him to pull out all of the initial paperwork he’d shoved in the top drawer and hadn’t looked at again, all of the documents describing Harry’s life. 

It’s a thick stack and Louis lifts it carefully out of the drawer to place on top of the desk. He opens the booklet slowly, glancing through the first few pages where the mandatory signatures and agreements are, smiling stupidly at Harry’s familiar handwriting and signature. The next few pages are an introduction about him and his occupation, his age and sexual orientation and more, which Louis’ already read through after matching. 

When he flips further, it delves more into his kinks and sexual interests, and he sucks on his bottom lip as he ponders, wondering what he could do to possibly surprise him for their imminent coupling. 

He snorts when he reads domesticity listed as a kink, followed by more about home life and family. Harry really is something else, he muses, nothing like any dominant he’s met before in his life. Louis eyes over the rest of the kinks listed on the page and a few on the next one, then flips again. 

This section is dedicated to past sexual experiences. There isn’t anything listed under traumatic experiences or uses of safewords, and Louis’ grateful for that, not wanting to picture Harry in one of those situations. 

Most of it looks great, and aligns with Louis’ own answers. Though he also hadn’t had any traumatic scenes, he had listed some uncomfortable details that he knows Harry’s probably already read. A prickle of guilt hits him for not reading about Harry earlier, but he’d been so caught up in the process he forgot the paperwork was even still here. 

Rocking himself back and forth in his office chair, Louis nods as he glances over what’s left of the booklet, things like diseases, safety precautions in active use, and body counts. 

His eyes widen and he nearly chokes on his own saliva when he sees what’s listed next to past sexual partners, blinking several times and bringing the paper close to his face as if that’ll change what he knows is printed there. Louis lowers it back onto the desk and bites his lip until it turns bright red, the number of Harry’s past lovers printed clear behind his eyelids. 

_ Zero. _

+

It takes a few days for the information to really set in. 

Under different circumstances he might’ve been apprehensive, because in a lot of ways it’s not the typical situation. In some ways though, Louis’ grateful. 

Harry’s sort of been his teacher during all of this. Younger Louis was always so preoccupied with the dream of running his own business that he rarely ever paid attention in class, on what a submissive was supposed to be. He never anticipated he’d need to really be one, anyway. 

But then he had, and he’d been incredibly lucky to get Harry. He’s far above Louis when it comes to understanding all of these concepts so closely rooted in their identifications, on what it truly means to be a dominant or submissive. Without his guidance, Louis would still be that scared, self-conscious shell he’d been before, tricking himself into thinking he never needed anyone or anything besides himself. 

Harry was patient when Louis asked questions and allowed him the room to grow as a submissive and get comfortable in his own skin before moving any farther, to put up with him when he fumbled or messed up during a scene. Where Louis might’ve given up, Harry had offered him a hand to coax him back to confidence, to make Louis feel successful for  _ himself _ instead of making his self worth based solely on Harry’s own perception of him like he was afraid he would in the beginning. 

And all of it’s been so much more than lovely too, but part of Louis likes the fact that maybe, in this one regard,  _ he _ can be the experienced one. For once maybe he can tell someone what  _ he _ likes and be able to go from there. It’s not much compared to everything Harry’s taught him and done for him, but it’s a lot to Louis because sex hasn’t ever been something he throroughly enjoyed as much as he could have in the past. 

His socked feet slide silently across the floor as he makes his way to the far end of the penthouse to Harry’s study, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s still snug in his comfy pajamas, only having left the bed about an hour prior. He’s been laying there since he woke up this morning, thinking about all of it. 

“Can I come in?” Louis asks, peeking through the cracked door enough to see Harry behind the desk. 

Glancing over the lid of his computer, Harry smiles and nods, waving him over. “Yeah, of course. I’m just finishing up a few emails.” 

Shutting the door back quietly behind him, he toes along the plush carpet until he makes it to him, hands laced together in front of his hips. Long fingers cease their typing in favor of gripping Louis by the waist and planting him in Harry’s lap, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“Hi,” Louis says. 

“Hi,” Harry chuckles. 

Once he’s situated, Louis lays his cheek down and just watches him. He gets back to work with his arms around Louis’ waist, typing up his notes that he likes to do after sessions sometimes. 

Ever since he found out he’s been feeling a bit more -  _ more. _ His feelings for Harry have certainly deepened both in spite of and because of the information he saw on the paperwork. This entire time Louis’ felt like it was him giving Harry a chance, but he’s come to find out that Harry took quite a chance on him as well. 

He’s a wonderful dom, and Louis knows he most likely could have gotten any sub he wanted. But he’d matched with Louis and decided to stick with him, decided that he was worth it. He’d taken a chance even when Louis talked back at him, embarrassed him, and questioned him. 

The list goes on, Louis muses, but it would be impossible to count every reason. Their relationship flourished the moment that Louis decided to be completely honest with him, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do now. 

“I love you,” Louis whispers. 

Harry’s typing noises promptly stop. Louis can feel the way he freezes save for his heartbeat where his head is laying, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. 

“What did you say?” 

“I love you,” Louis repeats slowly. A sliver of fear seizes him for a moment but Louis tampers it down. He’s certain. 

Harry grips him by the shoulders and pulls him away far enough that he can see him properly, eyes wide and mouth parted. “Yeah?” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” Louis nods, this time unable to help the chuckle that passes his lips. 

Louis’ thrown forward again into his chest as arms wrap around him, hugged tightly to Harry’s chest. Then he’s pushes back yet again when Harry kisses him, beginning with his lips and then moving all over his face to press his lips to Louis’ eyebrows, cheeks, ears, and nose. 

“Harry - Haz,” Louis giggles, pushing at his chest. 

“What? What is it?” he rushes, framing Louis’ face with his hands. “What do you need?” 

“Do you… do you love me?” Louis asks, sobering slightly. 

“Oh,” Harry breathes, “of course I do, Louis. I love you so much. I was worried I was gonna say it too early and scare you off so I never brought it up but,” his mouth stretches into a wide grin once more, “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

Louis laughs happily and indulges him in a few more kisses , enjoying the moment while it’s fresh because it’s going to last for a long, long time. 

Yeah, he’s still sure. 

+

Laid out in the middle of the sheets, Louis takes a deep, calming breath. 

This time they aren’t in the room near Harry’s office. The wall he’s staring at is his own familiar one, his bedroom fan circling slowly around and around above his head. 

“This is why I wanted to wait,” Harry breathes against the back of his ear, his lips raising goosebumps across his skin. “So that every touch,” his hands slide around Louis’ waist, caressing his skin with featherlight fingertips, “every word,” he says right into Louis’ ear, “every  _ breath _ ,” he squeezes Louis around the waist tightly until his breathing stutters slightly, “has you right on the edge.” 

It’s been a bit since they both said they loved each other for the first time, but it still feels strikingly new. They’ve also been delving into more scenes recently and getting familiar with each other, enough that it’d been a mutual decision to take it a step further. 

“Sex isn’t even necessary for me to dom you, but it can be incredibly beneficial to understanding one another.” 

They’ve not even done anything yet but Louis can’t get enough of his touch. Eyes fluttering shut, Louis practically falls into it. 

“Also,” Harry muses smugly, squeezing at his hip, “it just feels good.” 

At that Louis can’t help his quiet huff of laughter, at Harry’s innate ability to sense when he’s gotten too far inside of his head and bring him back to the present. 

“Can I trust you to keep your eyes closed for me, darling?” 

“Yeah, Harry,” he nods. 

Because he’s  _ Harry _ today. They’re just people. 

Laying flat on the sheets, Louis breathes evenly in and out and keeps his eyes firmly shut. The quiet of the room feels as if it lays over his skin like a thick duvet, but the cool AC reminds him that he’s perfectly bare, open to Harry’s gaze whether he’s looking or not. 

Suddenly he hears the sounds of fabric hitting the floor. His first instinct is to open his eyes and see what it was but he furrows his brows and blinks them shut even harder, determined to prove that he can obey like he knows he can. After what is assumed to be Harry’s shirt is on the ground, it goes silent again. 

Louis begins to get the slightest bit fidgety, his fingers twitching on the linen and balling it up into his fist subconsciously. He swallows and inhales deeply once again. 

Just as he’s nearly relaxed, two more thuds sound against the wooden floor. Harry’s shoes. 

He can picture him there, watching Louis’ chest rise and fall as he undresses. Louis wonders if he’s taking his time simply to take it or if he’s looking at  _ Louis _ , admiring him and anticipating what’s about to happen. If allowed the chance, Louis knows he’d be admiring every inch of Harry in return. 

The sound of a zipper ricochets around the room and Louis hisses under his breath without even meaning to. It shocks him at first, sends a zip of energy through his veins, and he shifts, suddenly much more restless than he’d been before. 

Another few minutes pass before he hears the trousers fully hit the ground. Louis’ breath gets caught in his throat and his even inhales falter, a whimper hidden on his tongue. He has no way of knowing if Harry’s still in his underwear or if he’s naked, but he has a feeling if he reached over he’d be met with smooth, warm, uncovered skin. 

Harry just as easily could have put a blindfold on him and it would’ve accomplished the same thing. But it wouldn’t have created the haziness in his brain, the fog so thick he feels like he can see more clearly even without vision. This way Louis has a responsibility. A simple one, but a responsibility nonetheless. Harry knows exactly what he’s doing. 

He’d been right when he explained why he’d waited. Every single noise has his hair standing on end, his heartbeat quick and unsteady. His fingertips and his legs tingle pleasantly, aching to touch Harry and to have Harry touch him, to wrap his legs around his waist. If he felt like he could speak without disrupting the fragility of the moment, Louis would be begging. 

A footstep sounds on the floor next to the bed. Then another, and another. Louis bristles when he feels body heat, caught up on the fact that Harry’s close enough to touch now, and completely nude right next to him. He’s already dizzy and they haven’t even begun. He bites his lip around a small, pleased smile. 

It dissipates when a single fingertip appears at the base of Louis’ throat. It sits there for a moment and then slowly begins to run down the middle of his chest, circling around each nipple before delving lower to his belly button. 

His mouth opens and a shaky gasp escapes, his chest rising off of the bed to chase the light touch. If Harry were to touch him where he’s aching, he would come. He’s certain. 

Both fortunately and unfortunately, he doesn’t touch Louis below the waist. Instead his finger trails back up, cuts over the pointed tip of his hardened nipple again before it glides over to his shoulder. From there it begins a descent down his arm, lingering on the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow for a moment until Louis flinches and moans breathily, unable to help himself. He gulps again when his throat gets too dry, his head a thousand miles away but his body tethered to the mattress, to the moment, to  _ Harry.  _

His finger resumes its movement toward his inner wrist and makes him shiver all over his body. Louis’ toes curl and he thrashes when Harry traces over his veins and the sensitive skin. He circles Louis’ wrist a few times before the rest of his fingers appear, encircling it completely, and he lifts Louis’ hand limply into the air. 

“Eyes closed,” Harry reminds him in a whisper. 

Nodding to himself, Louis clenches them shut hard again to prevent them from rolling backward and opening. He’s glad for the reminder, really, because the next moment he feels  _ skin on skin _ and it’s so jarring that he nearly comes then and there, hips bucking upward into nothing. 

He can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed when he feels the burn behind his shut eyelids, the tell tale bite of fresh tears stinging the darkness. Louis doesn’t know why he’s so overwhelmed but he can’t bring himself to worry about it. Harry knows. Harry will keep him safe. 

The calming breaths do little to serve their purpose as Harry’s fingers drag Louis’ wrist to his own much broader chest and shoulders, still standing next to the bed. He lets Louis’ palm lay flat against where his heart beats inside of his chest, everything around them slowing down to a steady, familiar rhythm. Louis syncs his breaths with Harry’s and the nervous energy ebbs once again to something more subtle. 

A few minutes pass with no movement. Then he’s moving their hands again, letting Louis’ fingers trace over his pecs, his nipples, the outline of his firm upper stomach as it meets fleshier abdomen, down to pointed hip bones and the beginnings of short curly hair underneath his belly button. 

There’s another pause and then his hand abruptly rests over where Harry’s cock lays half-hard between his thighs. Louis’ hand flexes like he’s been burned and his mouth opens again, heat flooding his limbs when he tightens his grip and hears the way Harry’s breath falters. 

Slowly they create a rhythm, but Harry’s hand never leaves his. Both of them stroke over his length until he’s curved upward toward his stomach, until Louis can feel every prominent vein and texture on his sensitive skin, slick with the glide of his precome. 

With their fingers laced together it feels much more like a team effort. Louis isn’t forced to get him hard on his own like he had been in past couplings. Harry seems to want to be involved every step of the way, which is always how Louis thought it should be, if he’s honest. He used to settle. 

This, now, is the farthest thing from  _ settling _ he’s ever experienced. 

A quiet groan falls from Harry’s lips and Louis jerks at the noise, nearly opening his eyes again. Somehow they stay closed and Harry pulls their joined hands away from his stiffened cock, bringing Louis’ hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it softly. 

“You’re going to come for me three times tonight. Are you okay with that, darling?” 

“More than okay,” he breathes. 

Chuckling quietly, Harry sets his arm back down next to him on the bed again. “Thought so.” 

Harry’s finger strays down even further, caressing his hips and drawing hidden patterns over the skin. Arching into it isn’t a conscious decision, chasing the touch as it lifts and returns unpredictably. 

One second he’s touching him and the next he’s gone, an abrupt pause that leaves Louis reeling, chasing it. 

The next moment his hand returns at the base of Louis’ prick, gripping it firmly around the base. Louis yells around a broken sob, his body lit with imaginary flames as his non-vision fades into bright white and he raises off the bed. 

“Come for me, Louis,” Harry murmurs into his ear. 

That’s all it takes. Louis’ been so worked up for so long that he comes the moment he’s allowed, the only touch Harry’s fist still tight around his base, aiming his prick upward as he spurts hotly over his own chest without any help. 

He sobs but doesn’t open his eyes, his head tossing back and forth on the pillow. How on earth is he supposed to make it through the night? 

“Shh,” Harry soothes him, stroking a hand through his hair and over his forehead. His other hand deliberately shakes where he’s still holding Louis’ sensitive length, the last few droplets of translucent release dripping from the head with the movement. “Amazing, Louis. You’re doing so well. So good for me.” 

He disappears again and Louis whines, but he quiets again when a warm washcloth runs over his stomach and between his thighs, cleaning up the evidence of his first orgasm. The rag is rough and he winces when it passes over his prick, but he can’t deny he’s already beginning to harden again despite the pain. Maybe even  _ because _ of it. 

Once he’s clean he feels Harry drop the wash cloth and kneel onto the bed beside him. There’s muted light and then there’s dark when he hovers above where Louis’ laying, his forearms on either side of his head. He kisses Louis’ forehead once and then runs his thumb over Louis’ eyelid, pressing his lips to that as well before he drops down beside him on the mattress. 

“Turn over for me, lovely,” he says. 

In one fluid motion Louis rolls over onto his stomach with his hands tucked underneath his cheek. This way it’s much easier to keep his eyes shut and Louis breathes in the scent of the freshly washed linen to regroup while he waits. 

There’s a quick snick of a cap being opened before Louis feels fingertips prodding between his thighs. His legs part unbidden, catching as the sheets bunch up around his knees, his arse lifting upward with the movement and further into Harry’s grasp. 

He kneads the warm skin with his hands and Louis counts to a minute inside of his head, his brain moving in and out of hazy consciousness and yet still somehow clear where Harry’s touching him. 

It’s easier to keep his eyes shut when they’re pressed into the pillow, but Louis does lift his head to gasp when a finger promptly enters him. Soon after, Harry’s entire body blankets his and everything is one fluid moment, one finger turning to two turning to three. 

“Grind down for me,” Harry tells him, “want you to come once more before I’m inside of you.” 

Mindlessly he ruts down onto the bedding until it gets to be too much, Harry’s fingers delving deep and curving until they hit his prostate. 

“Oh,” Louis moans, unable to keep his hips from circling frantically. 

Fingers tangle in the sheets and his breath feels caught in his throat. Harry leans down and bites at his neck, sucking bruises into skin and leaving marks Louis will cherish until Harry puts new ones there again. The sharp edge of his teeth digs into him and Louis grinds down a final time, shuddering as he comes for a second time. 

Louis feels malleable when Harry removes his digits and kisses him between the shoulder blades, turning his chin to the side. 

“Look at me,” Harry murmurs, fingers dancing across his heated cheek. 

His lips finally meet Louis’ at a slow pace. He takes his time licking into his mouth and kissing both of his lips while Louis keeps his neck strained toward him, too overwhelmed to do much but allow him to explore as he likes. 

Though it seems odd, he keeps his eyes open as Harry continues to kiss him. After having them closed for so long it feels like he needs to drink in every single thing he can, every detail he can remember. 

Time freezes when the tip of Harry’s slick cock grazes his entrance, tapping it against his opened rim. Then, between one breath and the next, he pushes forward. 

Hands tangled together next to his head on the pillow and Harry’s body blanketing his, Louis gasps into the linen pillowcase and shudders as he sinks in to the hilt, completely sheathed inside of his body. 

Harry hisses at the tightness of it, the breath over Louis’ ear creating goosebumps over his neck. Soon he wants to do this on his back so he can see Harry face to face, but for right now this just feels -  _ right. _ Every part of them is pressed together, every curve and every divot, and Louis sighs happily once the short discomfort fades. 

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Harry hisses and ruts forward on accident, his apology useless as Louis arches upward to chase the feeling. He slides his hand underneath Louis’ cheek and holds it there as he begins to rock them together. 

“Harry,” Louis sighs into him. 

“M’here,” he murmurs back, kissing him sloppily, tongues together, “m’right here, Louis. I’ve got you.” 

“Feels good,” Louis slurs. 

“I know. I know it does, baby.” 

He’s entirely spent but he cries out when Harry’s hand reaches around and underneath his body, gripping where Louis’ prick is painfully hardening for a third time. Never in his life has he come three times at once, but something about Harry makes him feel like he can do anything. 

So he ignores the sensitivity and lets his body speak for him instead, Harry’s response immediate and reassuring. The sweat clinging to his skin only makes for an easier glide when Harry’s knees give out and he drops completely down onto Louis, fucking into him in long, deep strokes. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Louis curses, overwhelmed. “Harry,” he pleads. 

“Got you, baby. You gonna come for me? One last time? We’ll do it together, baby, c’mon. Love you so much,” he rambles. 

“Love you,” Louis gasps. “So much.” He grinds down into Harry’s hand and then back into his cock, saliva wetting the pillowcase and Harry’s thick scent surrounding him. “Gonna - gonna,” he warns. 

“Come for me, Lou,” Harry bites at his shoulder to muffle his own groan, pushing inside of him all the way as he fucks through his release, pushing it deeper inside of him in the process. 

It barely even registers when it happens, Louis’ prick offering little after two other orgasms, but he feels every second of Harry filling him up. That alone has his eyes rolling back into his head, reaching backward with an unsteady hand to run his fingers through Harry’s matted hair. 

This is the part in his past relationships where he would quietly slip out of the bed and go for a shower while he waited for the other person to leave. Then he’d strip the sheets and put on new ones, crawl back into an empty bed and hope for a dreamless sleep. 

“I love you,” Harry tells him, dropping down beside him and tugging him close. 

“I love you,” Louis echoes raspily. 

As he drifts off, Louis thinks briefly back to before he met Harry. Working too much and eating too little, acting like nothing was wrong even as he walked around with a hole inside of his chest. 

He can’t believe he was lucky enough to find such an incredible match, an incredible  _ person.  _ There’s no way he can ever make it up to him. 

But he’s learned that maybe there isn’t anything to make up. That maybe the simple act of existing together, of balancing each other, is so much more than enough. 

Louis uses the last of his strength to tilt his chin upwards, stealing one last kiss while Harry pets a hand down his back and covers him up with the duvet. He falls asleep like that, still and sure and with a smile, his heart finally feeling completely whole. 

+

“That was fantastic, Brayden!” 

The audience is still cheering around them as the actors file off stage, roses thrown around and people hugging. Louis’ grinning so hard that his cheeks hurt, holding tight to Harry’s hand. 

“Thanks, man,” Brayden smiles, much more lively than when Louis met him in Harry’s waiting room all those months ago. “I’m really so glad you guys could make it.” 

Louis compliments him on his performance and talks with him a bit about his own former acting in school before he heads off to his other friends waiting for him. From his side, Leo elbows him lightly. 

“I can’t believe he’s never acted before,” he remarks. “He already seems like a professional.” 

“He’s always wanted to act but never felt like he’d be good at it. Harry encouraged him,” Louis brags, linking their arms together. 

“It was phenomenal, we’ll have to come back for the next one,” Blake adds. 

There’s a bit more commotion as Harry says goodbye to a few more people he knows, and then they head for the door. Since they all rode together, they navigate the crowded parking garage to Blake’s car, he and Harry sliding into the backseat. 

“Where are we going?” Louis asks, eyeing the missed exit they just passed toward home. 

“Oh, I just need to stop by the office for a minute,” Blake tells him, the rest of them being oddly quiet. 

Louis shrugs but goes along with it, leaning into Harry’s side. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” he hums quietly. 

“Thanks,” Louis smiles. 

Since his mid-twenties, his birthday has always seemed like more of a chore than anything else. He isn’t much for celebration or big gestures, but he has enjoyed spending it with Harry this year. Their age difference doesn’t bother him all that much anymore. 

“C’mon, let’s go up,” Harry nudges him toward the door. 

“Why do we have to go?” 

Harry doesn’t offer any answer as he tugs him out of the car again once they’re at the office, following Blake and Leo up the stairs to the lift. With a sigh, he can’t do much but follow them up. 

“Okay, you guys are being really weird,” he comments when they get to the top floor. “Are you sure that-” 

“Surprise!” 

Jumping backward into Harry’s chest, Louis’ eyes widen at the small crowd gathered in his office. Banners are hung up around the ceiling, a large food table set up in the middle with a cake on it. 

Niall’s standing in the middle with the lighter in his hand, while Liam and Zayn are a bit further back behind him. A few of the girls are here too, all with lopsided party hats strapped to their heads. 

Blake and Leo step around them and join everyone else in gathering around the table, a lone confetti popper going off to the side. 

“This - you guys-” he huffs, emotional. 

“It was all Harry’s idea,” Niall smirks, nodding in his direction. “And we all wanted to show you how grateful we are for you, so,” he pauses to light the candles, then turns back to him. “Happy birthday, man.” 

“Happy birthday, Louis!” 

Everyone echoes their sentiments and Louis’ so overwhelmed he could cry, but there’s always one thing grounding him. He turns around in Harry’s grasp and pulls him straight down into a kiss in front of everybody. 

Louis can hear everyone cheering behind them. He parts from Harry when his grin gets too wide, keeping his hands on his cheeks and their foreheads pressed together. 

“I love you,” he says. “Thank you.” 

“I love you so much, baby,” Harry smiles, walking him toward the middle of the room. “Happy birthday, Lou. Gonna spend every one of them next to you for the rest of our lives.” 

The phantom outline of his collar beats in time with his heartbeat, picturing it resting at home for later. No matter what changes, Louis trusts everyone in this room right now, and he’s so grateful for each and every one of them in different ways. He turns and presses a kiss to Harry’s smiling cheek before he blows out his candles. 

Louis likes to think he has everything he’ll ever need. 

Actually, he takes that back. 

This time,  _ he knows. _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this fic, you can reblog it [here](https://soldouthaz.tumblr.com/post/635606463490949120/somewhere-in-between-e-42k-bl-louis-wakes) or retweet it [here](https://twitter.com/soldouthaz/status/1330964286844366849?s=20)
> 
> find me on tumblr and twitter as @soldouthaz !


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